


hold me tight or don't

by NoirSongbird



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Mating, Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst and Smut, Barebacking, Blade of Marmora!Lotor, Bondage, Breeding Kink, Crossdressing, Crying During Sex, Cumplay, Fluff, Heat Sex, Intersex Lotor, Light D/s, Lingerie, M/M, Marathon Sex, Marking/Claiming, Mentions of past abuse, Mutual Pining, No Refractory Period, Not Season 5 Compatible, Oral Sex, Possessiveness, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Switching, Torture, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Xenophilia, collaring, i swear there's fluff eventually, trials of marmora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 04:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 47,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15016646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/pseuds/NoirSongbird
Summary: Lance can absolutely admit that he’s been kind of into Lotor ever since Lotor showed up on the castleship. He’s hot and dangerous and clever, and Lance is pretty okay with owning up to the fact that he likes all of those things. So when Lotor goes into heat, Lance figures he can have a pretty good time with someone he’s pretty into and help Lotor out at the same time. It’s a win-win, right?Except somewhere along the line, Lance and Lotor end up entangled in a Galra pairbond, and what was supposed to be just sex gets a whole lot more complicated. An empathic bond wouldn’t be so terrible, but with Zarkon and Haggar interested in destroying Voltron and Lotor, Lotor is insistent that they can’t hand his parents another weapon. The only solution is to stay apart, and try to let the bond fade on its own.As Lance quickly discovers, that’s far easier said than done.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for this year's Voltron Kinkbang! I've been working on this for quite a while, and it's posting _super_ late, so a lot of appreciation to the mods and to my artist, [princelotortrash,](http://princelotortrash.tumblr.com) who has been super wonderful to work with. Her art is featured in this chapter and I love it!
> 
> Also, obviously, there's a _whole fucking lot_ of smut in this fic. If I've missed a tag, please let me know! I'm pretty sure I got everything, but I'm not ignoring the possibility.

Lotor groaned, softly. He knew this feeling; it had been a long time since he'd felt it, because during his time in exile he had gone to extreme lengths to be without it, but he should have expected that it would come back. The uncomfortable ache between his legs, the over-warmth that had him cutting down extensively on the number of layers he wore; all of it meant that his heat was settling in, because when he fled the Empire he hadn't exactly had time to pack, and the suppressants he'd worked so hard to develop were long out of his reach.

He would have to find the Princess and speak to her. She would understand, and perhaps they could discuss ancient Altean methods of heat suppression, because surely there were some.  _ She  _ certainly couldn't afford to spend three quintants every few phoebs so crippled with sexual frustration that she could barely do anything else. It would be far too late  _ now,  _ but for the future, he could avoid this entirely.

In his search for her, he did his best to avoid any of the other people on the castleship, and to keep to the less populated areas; there was no need for him to draw too much attention to himself, not when he was likely already beginning to give off pheromones, and the last thing he wanted was to accidentally seduce someone. There were ways to win allies and prove his sincerity to Voltron, and that was... _ not  _ one of them.

Certainly there were people on the castleship he wouldn't  _ mind _ spending his heat with. There were quite a few of them, even, and one in particular was stuck in his head, but he was fairly certain that none of them would be tripping over themselves to spend it with  _ him,  _ and if he was going to have a partner for three quintants of what would undoubtedly be wildly messy fucking, he would prefer that it was someone who would actually like being there independent of pheromones making Lotor irrationally appealing.

It took him much longer than it ought to have to finally find Allura, but in a small act of mercy, she was at least  _ alone.  _ Good. No one else would have to hear him confess to this unbearable weakness. He watched her tense as his scent hit her nose, and she turned, eyes slightly wide,

"Princess," he said, as politely as he could manage, "a moment of your time?"

"You..." She began, and then she swallowed, and focused on his face, though it was clearly an effort. "What can I do for you?"

"As I'm sure you've noticed," Lotor replied, "I am going to be...indisposed, for a time. Is there a comfortable place where I can ride out my heat in peace? I would obviously prefer somewhere that I can avoid leaving as much as possible, to avoid any," he paused, carefully considering the word he wanted to use, "...awkwardness." An understatement, if he had ever come up with one, but it would do.

"There are several suites for just such a thing, actually," Allura said. "My father expected the castleship to be crewed by...a large number of Alteans, and." She stopped, and coughed. "Well. you cannot mandate that  _ everyone  _ choose to suppress their heats." In Lotor's opinion, you certainly  _ could,  _ especially when at war, but he kept that to himself. Arguing with Allura's dead father wasn't going to get him to somewhere private anywhere quicker, and he was willing to accept that.

"Where are these suites?" He asked. "And is there a...back way, to them? I would prefer to avoid people as much as possible." Allura gave him a sympathetic look.

"Stick to the interior hallways, few of our allies push too far into the castleship. The suites are the next hallway after the regular residence quarters, behind a door. They are intended to be isolated, for...privacy."

Lotor nodded, and gave her a genuinely grateful smile.

"Thank you, Princess," he said. "At your convenience, once this is done with....I would like to discuss ways to prevent the issue from arising in the future."

"Of course," Allura said, and he gave her one last nod and took his leave. 

 

* * *

Lance didn't like to think that he was particularly  _ over-aware  _ of Lotor's presence or absence, but it was certainly true that when he was missing from the breakfast table, Lance noticed. It had taken considerable effort, much of it on Lance's part specifically, to get him comfortable enough to join them at all. Effort on Lance’s part because he’d had to acknowledge and accept that he had been an asshole, when Lotor first came to the castleship, and that he’d mistrusted someone who wanted to help them for no reason other than petty jealousy. Over Allura, who had more than made it clear she wasn’t interested in him romantically.

In other words, Lance was an idiot, he’d had to face that, and now he was doing his level best to make up for it, so maybe he  _ was _ a little over-aware of Lotor. Really, the point was that Lance couldn't think of anything that might have happened that would have set them  _ back,  _ so it was definitely weird that he wasn't at breakfast because as best as Lance could tell, he’d seemed to enjoy being around the team.

Also, Allura was definitely a little fidgety, and that was  _ super  _ weird, and Lance had about thirty different questions about  _ that _ , but it would be really, really rude to press. Also, the fact that he noticed that meant that it was totally irrelevant that he'd noticed Lotor being gone first,and that Lotor being gone was bugging him way more. It was just concern for the two of them. They were both Altean; maybe something was going around?

"Has anybody seen Lotor?" He asked, trying to make it sound as idle as possible. He'd taken more than a little ribbing for his turnaround in attitude, and for the fact that his acknowledgement that he had  _ been  _ an ass came with noticing that Lotor was in possession of a particularly  _ fine  _ ass. That was...fair, he guessed, because yeah, if he were being honest, he knew he was being more than a little stupid about it. Who could blame him, though, really? Lotor was  _ hot,  _ and Lance damned well knew he was  _ not  _ the only one checking him out.

"Huh," Shiro said, and he glanced over the table like he had to confirm that Lotor actually wasn't there, which was probably because until Lance said something his attention had been absorbed in his breakfast and he looked like he hadn't slept much—which, really, to be expected, since Keith had just gotten back from a brief mission with the Blade, "no, I haven't."

"Hunk? Pidge?" Lance asked. A pair of headshakes. "Allura?" She squirmed uncomfortably, and Lance frowned. "You okay, Princess?" He asked.

"I’m fine!" She said, very quickly. "And I saw him early this morning, actually. He informed me that he would be indisposed for the next three quintants or so, but it's nothing to be concerned about."

" _ Indisposed?" _ Lance asked. That sounded like a cop-out, and Lance really didn't want to hear cop-outs, but then...Allura  _ had  _ said not to worry, and she wouldn't lie, right? So he was just being ridiculous.

"Is he sick?" Hunk asked, frowning.

"Not...exactly," Allura replied. "It really is nothing to be overly concerned about. A quirk of Altean physiology. Not quite an illness, but I suppose it could be something like one." That wasn't exactly helpful, and Lance felt more than a little annoyed by the blatant dodge.

"So he's what, out of it for a whole three quintants, because of some kind of weird Altean thing?" He asked. That  _ almost  _ seemed too out there to be true, but then, weird alien biology  _ was  _ a thing, and he'd seen a lot of weird stuff. "How come it's never happened to you?"

"There are ways to avoid having to deal with it," Allura said, and she shifted a little. "Unfortunately Lotor has not had access to them, given his...situation."

"Uh-huh," Lance said, more than a little dubiously. It still sounded kinda bullshit, but there really wasn't a reason for Allura to  _ lie. _ So, fine, he'd take her at face value, because what else was he going to do? Interrogate her about Lotor? Yeah, sure,  _ that  _ wouldn't make him look suspiciously overworried at all, and it definitely wouldn't ruin his carefully-constructed insistence that no, he had absolutely no non-platonic feelings for Lotor whatsoever. "Well, hey, I can run him something to eat, if he's not leaving much he probably hasn't had a chance to get food."

It seemed perfectly reasonable, and he  _ really  _ did not understand the change in Allura's attitude after he said that. She was silent for a moment, regarding him with narrowed eyes, and then she smiled.

"That's very kind of you, Lance," she said, "I'm sure he will appreciate it."

"Well, yeah," Lance said, "who doesn't appreciate food? Hey, Hunk, buddy, wanna help me throw something together?" He asked, and Hunk nodded and stood up.

It would settle his nerves, Lance was sure, to go see Lotor for himself and confirm that he really was alright.

 

* * *

Getting there, however, was _not_ doing anything to settle his nerves. With Hunk's help and Keith's watchful eye to make sure everything was reasonably Galra-safe, Lance had thrown a plate together, but the way Allura was behaving had him more than a little weirded out. When she gave him directions to the suite Lotor was staying in, she'd _winked_ and _wished him luck,_ and that was not exactly normal. It was like she knew something he didn't, and she found that knowledge absolutely hilarious somehow.

He'd wondered for a while what the sealed door not far from their quarters led to, but he'd never bothered to actually explore. Finding out that it was a whole 'nother set of residential rooms, fancy enough to be called _suites,_ actually had him a little bit annoyed. _Their_ rooms were more _dorms_ or _bunks,_ and it seemed a little unfair that there were nicer accommodations and they were some big secret.

Once he stepped through, he began to notice a strangely sweet smell. It was like some sort of alien flower, almost, light and airy and just a little bit _intoxicating,_ and the closer he got to Lotor's door, the stronger it became. It was intoxicating in a really, really specific way, too, and Lance found his thoughts wandering in a way that was _very deeply inappropriate_. It really, really wasn't the time for him to be thinking about how good Lotor looked when he fought during spars with the gladiator bot, and how much Lance sometimes wanted to pin him to the floor and have him _right there._ Nope, bad place for his brain to go, not the time.

He knocked on the door, and swallowed.

"Hey, Lotor, you in there?" He asked. The strange smell was thick in the air, and it was definitely fuzzying him up. How could Lotor  _ stand it? _

...Was Lotor  _ producing it? _

" _Lance?"_ The voice from the other side was startled. "Give me...a moment." Yeah, definitely Lotor, and Lance wondered how he hadn't noticed how _good_ Lotor's voice sounded before. Because it sounded really, really, _really good._ Lance didn't usually think of himself as having a Thing about voices, but Lotor's was....especially Thing-inducing.

"I can wait," he said, even though the same part of his brain that was beginning to suspect Lotor was the source of whatever weird floral smell he was smelling screamed that it would be a terrible idea and he should book it with  _ much haste. _ "Just brought you something to eat, since you weren't at breakfast."

The door opened, and there was Lotor, and yep, he was  _ definitely  _ the source of the smell because as soon as the door opened it washed over Lance like a wave and his brain briefly short-circuited.

The way Lotor looked didn't help. He was wearing what Lance could only equivocate to a crop top and shorts, though they were sleeker than most Earth clothes, and they clung to him in a way that left very little to the imagination. He was flushed, too, and sweating, and his hair looked like he had started trying to put it in order and given up.

He looked a little like he'd just been fucked, except there was no one else around.

"Thank you," Lotor said, taking the plate from Lance. "You should go."

"What's going on?" Lance asked, and it was better than what he  _ wanted  _ to ask, which was  _ "can I fuck you _ ." "Allura said you were gonna be out of it for the next three quintants, and I'm, uh. Kind of worried."

"It isn't...." Lotor started, and then he paused, took a breath, and started again. "There's no need to concern yourself. I'm fine."

"You definitely  _ look  _ fine," Lance said, and it definitely came out as a pickup line and he wanted to smack himself. Not the time. Never the time, with Lotor, though apparently he just could not help himself. Lotor rolled his eyes.

"Thank you," he said, and his voice was heavy with sarcasm. "You look a bit like you're going to explode from sexual frustration, so I'm afraid I can't return the compliment." Lance flushed dark red.

"Uh," he said. He couldn't believe it was that obvious. "...Sorry," he said, not because he necessarily thought an apology was necessary, but because it felt like the only thing he  _ could  _ do, given the circumstances. "I, uh."

"It isn't your fault," Lotor said, and there was something in his tone, like there was a joke he was in on and Lance wasn't, and it made Lance frown. "Didn't Allura warn you to stay away?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, actually, she seemed to think this was going to be a brilliant idea," Lance said. He was starting to think he might know what had Allura so fidgety at breakfast. Lotor exhaled.

"Well. I'll add that to my list of things to discuss with her when this is over," he muttered, and he sounded irritated. "Go, Paladin, before you decide to do something you're going to regret." He said it matter-of-factly, like it was an absolute guarantee that Lance would regret whatever he did with Lotor, and Lance was pretty sure he didn't see it that way.

"Why would I do that?" Lance asked. Lotor huffed.

"Would I be wrong in assuming that you are currently running through a number of scenarios that involve fucking me into the nearest relatively sturdy surface?" He asked. Lance sputtered, and Lotor waved his free hand. "I'm not offended, you can't help it. I'm currently in heat, which means that I'd very much  _ like  _ you to, and the pheromones I'm giving off are making you  _ want to. _ "

Lance was left staring at him, more than a little shocked that he was so  _ blunt _ about it. Lotor ducked back into the room with the plate of food, and Lance started to follow, but the door shut in front of him.

“Paladin— _ Lance _ ,” Lotor said, voice low and warning, and that was sort of incredibly hot, “unless you  _ actually _ want to come in here and fuck me until I can’t walk, I strongly suggest you walk away.”

“I dunno,” Lance said, “that doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Not good enough,” Lotor said. “ _ Leave.” _

“Come on,” Lance said, “I promise, I’ll make it good for you!” Like he had all the experience in the world to back that up.

There was a long silence from the other side of the door.

“Leave,” Lotor said, “and take some time to clear your head. If you’re still interested...well.  _ I’m  _ certainly not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Lance said. That wasn’t a  _ no _ \- in fact it was quite the opposite, it was a  _ yes, later _ , which was pretty damn good. And maybe it would do him well to get away from whatever freaky alien sex pheromones Lotor was giving off so he was sure that he  _ actually _ wanted to pound the former Emperor Pro Tem of the Galra Empire into a mattress.(Oh. God. Yeah. He did. He really, really did.) “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t make promises you might not keep, Paladin,” Lotor said, but there was something approaching a teasing lilt in his voice. 

“I never do,” Lance said, and then he reluctantly stepped away from the door. Later. He’d come back later and make good.

 

* * *

Lance actually did make a good faith effort to clear his head. All desire aside, it _would_ actually be pretty stupid to sleep with Lotor. He had been their _enemy_ until very recently _,_ and although their alliance had worked out pretty damn well so far—incident with the Druids and Keith aside, and if you asked Lance, that had turned out pretty okay too—he was dangerous and smart and exactly the sort of person, Lance suspected, who would use a tryst against him later if the opportunity came.

But that was sort of the problem. Lotor was smart and dangerous and _hot,_ and him being smart and dangerous just made him hotter. It made Lance want to get his hands on him and utterly wreck him, and Lance hadn’t really known he had that kind of urge in him.

The longer he tried not to think about it, the more he ended up thinking about it. He wished he could  _ talk  _ to someone, but who exactly did you go to for advice about that? Ordinarily he’d try Shiro, but he could already picture the disappointment on Shiro’s face that Lance was even  _ considering  _ shacking up with someone so dubiously allied with them, no matter how temporarily. Keith was also out, for similar reasons. He wasn’t having any kind of discussion about sex with Pidge, she’d be way too into dissecting the possibilities. 

So that left Hunk.

Lance found him in the kitchen, blessedly alone, working on something Lance couldn’t identify that looked absolutely delicious.

“Hunk, buddy!” Lance said, sliding over next to him. “How are you?”

“Uh, fine,” Hunk said, and he frowned in Lance’s direction. “Is something up with you?”

“Well, I was wondering,” Lance said, “if I could maybe...come to my  _ best friend  _ for some advice. Without judgement.”

“Lance, what did you do,” Hunk said.

“Nothing!” Lance said defensively. “Yet.” He took a breath. “There might be an opportunity for me to get  _ super  _ laid with someone  _ very  _ attractive, but it might also be a very bad idea.”

“Who is it,” Hunk said.

“Uh,” Lance said.   


“ _ Lance.” _

“It’s Lotor.” Lance said very quickly.

“ _ What?” _ Hunk asked. “Lotor, as in, fugitive from the Galra, former Emperor, probably-has-like-eight-agendas Lotor?  _ That  _ Lotor?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, “ _ that  _ Lotor.”

“That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had,” Hunk said without hesitation.

“It’s just sex!” Lance protested. “He’s got some kind of weird alien heat thing going on, and like, he’s  _ in pain,  _ I’m just helping a dude out!”

“A dude who was our enemy like two months ago!” Hunk said. “What happens  _ after  _ you help him out? What if he like, kills you in your sleep?”

“....I’m pretty sure it would be—” 

“Lance,” Hunk said warningly, “if you finish that sentence with  _ worth it,  _ I’m kicking you out of this kitchen.”

“Uh,” Lance said, “I mean. It might be. Kinda worth it.”

“Get out,” Hunk said, very tiredly. “And. Have safe sex. I guess. Since we both know you’re gonna do this.”

“Thanks, Hunk,” Lance said, “you’re the best.”

 

* * *

Lance knocked on the door to Lotor’s room again, and he heard a soft moaning noise from inside before Lotor’s very wrecked-sounding voice called out “Yes?”

And holy shit, Lance hadn’t even  _ seen  _ him, but just the  _ sound  _ of the normally poised prince reduced to a horny mess sent a jolt of arousal straight to Lance’s cock. 

“Uh,” he stammered, “it’s, uh, Lance, I wanted to. See if you still needed a partner. For—” the door swung open and Lance was cut off mid-sentence by the door opening to reveal a very naked Lotor, looking sweaty and  _ messy _ in a way Lance really hadn’t expect _ ed _ . He took a moment to drink in the sight of toned musculature and the strange alien cock that stood erect against his stomach. Lance had expected something different, he supposed, but what was in front of him was  _ not _ what he had imagined. Lotor’s cock was long and thick and it was clearly ringed by three thick ridges, and for a moment all Lance could think about was how good it would feel inside him. 

“Yes,” Lotor said, voice tight, “I do still need a partner.” He grabbed the front of Lance’s shirt, and yanked him through the doorway and into a heated kiss that had Lance melting against him, hands scrambling to get a grip in Lotor’s hair. It was exactly as soft and silky as it looked, better even than Lance had imagined. Lance dimly registered that the door was closing behind him, which was nice because he really didn’t want to be interrupted.

Lotor pulled away, and Lance caught himself making a needy little mewling noise that startled him in how...wanton it sounded. 

“You are wearing far too much,” Lotor said, voice low and dark. He reached up and began to push Lance’s clothes off, starting with his jacket and letting it fall to the ground. It was about when Lotor’s hands crawled up under his t-shirt that it really sank in that  _ this was happening.  _ He was actually going to fuck the former Emperor of the Galra. Or maybe get fucked by him, Lance had never really considered the prospect before but that incredible alien dick had him thinking about possibilities.

There must have been something in his posture or in his face to indicate his surprise, because Lotor hesitated in pushing his shirt up, eyebrows raised.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked. Lance swallowed, and reached down to help pull his shirt off.

“Yeah, oh my god, I definitely do,” he said, and he tossed it aside and then started working to undo his pants. He’d actually thought ahead, sort of, and traded his shoes for his lion slippers, so it was easy enough to kick those off and then step out of his pants and boxers. Lotor reached down as soon as they were off, and his hand wrapped around Lance’s cock and he began to stroke eagerly, and Lance groaned. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, and Lotor gave him a very devious grin. 

“That would be the idea,” he said. Lance reached down to return the favor, but Lotor caught his wrist and moved his fingers lower, and Lance made a tiny noise of surprise. He could feel slick folds under his hand, and when he teased a bit more, he found a wet cunt he could sink his fingers into. When he did, Lotor moaned, ducking his head to bury it against Lance’s shoulder. 

“Holyshit,” Lance said softly. Of all the weird alien anatomy he’d been prepared for, that was  _ not  _ on the list. Were  _ all  _ Galra like that? Or was that an  _ Altean  _ thing, like the heats? Did Allura— 

“Lance, please,” Lotor gasped, rocking his hips against Lance’s hand. Lance took a sharp breath and crooked his fingers inside Lotor, praying that was actually as good as pornos made it out to be. The last thing he wanted was to reveal his incredible level of inexperience to a gorgeous alien prince who probably had a trail of ex-lovers a mile long because who  _ wouldn’t  _ want to get their hands on that— 

“ _ Lance, _ ” Lotor’s little moan of his name forcibly yanked him back to the present again. Okay, that was a good sign, probably. He did it again, and Lotor’s hips jerked forward, grinding their cocks together and sending a jolt of pleasure up Lance’s spine. He began to fuck his fingers in and out, and Lotor rocked his hips with the motion, little moans tumbling past his lips as he stroked Lance’s cock. “Yes,  _ please, _ ” he begged, and holy  _ fuck  _ that was probably the hottest thing Lance had ever heard. Lotor didn’t  _ beg,  _ not in Lance’s observation, but here he was, and he was begging  _ Lance  _ for  _ more.  _

“Please what?” Lance asked. He could feel Lotor shudder against him, and there was a tight squeeze around his cock.

“Please, fuck me,” Lotor said, and that went  _ straight _ to his boner.

“Fuck,” Lance said, quietly, and he pulled his fingers out, which drew a displeased whine from the Prince. “I’m gonna lay you down and fuck you senseless, I promise,” he said. He was pretty sure he couldn't pick Lotor up, but he  _ could  _ push him backwards, towards the bed, and Lotor went eagerly, releasing his grip on Lance's cock and pulling himself up onto the mattress. He reached out for Lance, and Lance went eagerly, climbing onto the bed with him and pushing him onto his back. Lotor reached up and cupped Lance's cheek, pulling him down and into a heated kiss. It was sloppy and eager, and the little mewls Lotor made against his lips were practically intoxicating.

When they broke apart, Lotor's hand moved to gently hold Lance's chin, and intense blue-violet eyes held his.

"Fuck me.  _ Now."  _ It was no longer a plea, it was a  _ demand,  _ and and that was somehow even hotter than the begging.

"Your wish is my command, your highness," Lance purred, and he moved to grip Lotor's hips, bringing him up and sliding into him. Lotor arched against him, legs coming up to lock around his waist and pull him in, forcing him to hilt almost immediately. " _ Fuck," _ Lance gasped, and Lotor grinned.

"Do not assume you need to treat me delicately, Paladin," he said, and he looked almost amused. Lance swallowed. Fuck, that was hot.

"What if I  _ want  _ to treat you gently?" He asked. He wasn't sure where the urge came from, really, Lotor certainly wasn't some soft damsel in distress, but it was definitely there, the desire to treat Lotor like he was something special and beautiful, like the prince he'd been before whatever happened that sent him running from the Empire.

"There will be plenty of time for that later," Lotor said, amusement still in his voice. "Right now, I  _ need  _ you to be much less so. Can you manage that?" He asked.

"Um," Lance replied, eyes wide. "I can do that." At least, he was pretty sure he could. He hadn't exactly  _ tried  _ before, but he hadn't tried a lot of things before. If he let lack of experience stop him, he wouldn't be here at all.

So he tightened his grips on Lotor's hips, and he didn't bother with all that working-up-to-it stuff he was pretty sure you were  _ supposed  _ to do, because Lotor had asked for it hard and he was going to give it to him as hard as he could manage. It wasn't even all that  _ difficult;  _ as much as Lance absolutely  _ wanted _ to treat Lotor like a delicate, beautiful treasure, he also sort of wanted to wreck him as aggressively as he could.

Lotor's hips rolled to fuck back against him, and he moaned, reaching up to twist his hands in the pillows above his head. Lance paused for a moment to appreciate the sight of Lotor, flushed and moaning, hair haloed around him and eyes half-closed. It was...incredible, and Lance couldn't help but lean down to steal another kiss, tightening his grip on Lotor's hips to hold him in place and pounding into him as hard as he could. Lotor whined against his lips, one hand moving to reach down between them, but Lance released his grip on one of Lotor's hips and batted his hand away, wrapping his hand around Lotor's cock and stroking it in time with his thrusts.

Lotor’s hands came up, and Lance felt nails digging into his back, scraping down and making him cry out. It hurt, sure, but all tangled up in the heady atmosphere of Lotor’s heat and of being balls-deep in a beautiful, moaning, writhing Galra prince sort of made the pain  _ erotic.  _ Just like the pain of the little bites Lotor was peppering over his neck, brief flashes of wonderful pain-pleasure that drove Lance higher with each and every one. He was going to come out of this marked up like crazy, apparently, and he was pretty okay with that concept. 

He could feel something hard and thick beginning to swell at the base of Lotor's cock, and his brain tripped over the idea that it was  _ a knot, Lotor had a fucking knot _ , but he could also feel sparks at the base of his spine and a coiling in his stomach, and it was hard to focus for too long on anything but his impending orgasm.

"Lotor, I'm gonna—" He started, and Lotor made a noise that sounded like pure, sinful desperation.

" _ Please,"  _ he said, and Lance shuddered. Yeah, yep, having Lotor underneath him and begging was definitely the hottest thing he'd ever experienced, and probably the hottest thing he  _ would  _ ever experience, it was ridiculous. "Please, yes, I need— _ please,"  _ he begged, hips jerking under Lance's hand. Lance groaned, pounding into him and feeling the coil in his stomach tighten and tighten.

It was a half-hazy thought; Lotor's neck was bared and inviting and something in Lance screamed to  _ mark him, claim him, _ and he wasn't sure if it was some effect of the very definitely brain-addling scent of Lotor's heat or what but it seemed like a  _ really great idea.  _ He leaned down and pressed kisses against the bared skin, drawing little pleasured gasps from Lotor's lips, and as the coil finally snapped and he came,  _ hard,  _ his mouth found the junction between Lotor's neck and shoulder and he bit down. He felt Lotor tense underneath him, and then his back arched and he was peaking with a scream, cum spurting from his cock and cunt clenching hard around Lance, milking him through his orgasm.

He felt fingers twist in his hair, and Lotor dragged him up and into a kiss, but this one was slower, more gentle and lingering. Lance sighed against Lotor's lips, and when they broke apart, Lotor was smirking up at him.

"Very good," he said. He leaned in and stole another brief kiss, and then he hooked his legs around Lance's and put his hands on Lance's shoulders and flipped them over, so Lance was pinned underneath him. Lance made a tiny noise of surprise, and Lotor grinned. "Relax, I'm not going to hurt you." A tiny, amused-sounding huff passed his lips. "Well. Unless you ask, I suppose." Lance shivered a little.

"What... _ are  _ you doing, then?" He asked, and Lotor laughed, straightening so he was sitting on Lance's cock—improbably, still hard, he realized, and he was pretty sure that was Lotor's wacky alien pheromones at work. The new position gave him an excellent view of the two handprint-shaped bruises he'd left on Lotor's hips, and the dark bite mark at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"You didn't think we'd be done after one round, did you?" Lotor asked. He sounded like he found the prospect somehow both hilarious and charming.

"Uh, no," Lance said, which was only about half a lie. He hadn't had any expectations one way or another, really, except that he was going to get to fuck the hot alien prince, which had been plenty to get him to agree to sign on.

"Good," Lotor said, and his expression became something dark and sultry, "because I am nowhere near done with you, I'd just like to...hm, set the pace myself, this time." He began to move himself up and down on Lance's cock, and Lance gasped thoughtlessly, hips jerking up and fucking into Lotor to meet him. Lotor leaned down and rested a hand on Lance's stomach, pressing him into the mattress with a touch that was somehow both light and commandingly firm. "Stay still," he said, and the tone of command in his voice made Lance let out a tiny, involuntary little whimper. Being ordered around by someone so clearly used to doing so was  _ incredibly fucking hot, _ and Lance was all in for every bit of it.

"Yes, your highness," he said without thinking, and he watched Lotor's eyes widen in surprise before the confident, sultry expression settled back on his face.

"Keep calling me that, Paladin. I think I rather like the way it sounds on your lips." He picked up the pace, and it was a struggle for Lance to follow orders and stay still, because he desperately wanted to meet Lotor thrust for thrust. Lotor's eyes were locked on Lance's face, and his hands rested on Lance's stomach to steady himself as he rode Lance like he was  _ desperate  _ for it. He probably was, Lance guessed, since he was in Freaky Alien Heat, and wasn't that sort of a trip.  _ Lotor,  _ former Galra emperor pro tem, was riding him like he was desperate for Lance's cock  _ because he was.  _ Sure, he'd probably be happy with anything presented, but it was  _ Lance's  _ bite mark on his neck,  _ Lance's  _ handprints on his hips,  _ Lance _ who had made him scream and cry out and plead for more.

Holy shit, that felt good to realize. It didn't matter that the only reason Lotor wanted him was because he was in heat,  _ Lotor wanted him. _

Lance's eyes drew down to Lotor's cock, watching it bob with each bounce of his hips. The ridges were more obviously prominent now that it was hard, and yes, that was  _ definitely  _ a knot at the base, thick and hard and holy shit, Lance wanted that inside him, he'd have to figure out how to convince Lotor to give it to him.

Lotor's eyes closed and his head tilted back, little moans tumbling from his lips, and Lance could feel him squeezing around his cock.

"Holyshit," Lance gasped, faintly. Lotor moaned in what had to be agreement, and reached around to stroke his own cock, and this time Lance didn't bother trying to help, between Lotor's order and the fact that he was far too entranced by him to even think of moving. He wasn't sure he could have looked away if his life had depended on it, really.

He could feel his climax building again, much faster this time, and he let out a tiny little whine.

"Lotor, I'm close, I'm so close," he gasped, hands scrabbling against the blankets for a better grip, because he needed to be holding  _ something  _ to anchor himself.

"Fuck,  _ Lance, _ " Lotor moaned, and hearing his name said  _ that way  _ almost sent Lance over the edge right there, "yes, good, come for me," and it wasn't a suggestion, it was an  _ order,  _ in that wrecked but still somehow gloriously regal voice, and Lance was helpless to do anything but obey, hips jerking against Lotor's hands as he spilled into him for a second time. Lotor kept riding him, fucking himself on Lance until he, too, went over the edge, splattering more cum onto Lance's stomach. It was messy and sticky and  _ utterly incredible,  _ and Lance watched Lotor slump forward, chest heaving with sharp intakes of breath, face hidden behind a messy curtain of white hair.

The sight was utterly entrancing, especially once Lance realized that Lotor was trembling, like it was an effort to stay upright. He finally lifted his head, and he tilted it to the side, regarding Lance with something not quite identifiable.

"You look like a mess," he said, finally, but there was nothing mocking in his tone—instead, it sounded almost self-satisfied, like he was pleased with himself and with what he'd done.

"So do you," Lance teased. Lotor hummed, and an amused grin drew itself across his face.

"I'm not the one covered in cum," he said, lightly, and then his hand moved to gently press at his own stomach, "though I suppose as soon as I move, that will change." And oh, if that wasn't a hell of an image, Lotor sliding off his cock and Lance's cum running down his thighs.

Half thoughtlessly, Lance reached down and drew his fingers through the mess of Lotor's spend on his stomach.

"Huh, yeah, you're right," he acknowledged, "maybe I should clean it up a little." He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking it off them, and watching Lotor's eyes widen and his cheeks flush. It was thick, and less salty than he'd expected—instead, there was something  _ sweet  _ in the flavor, and it made him want more. He reached down to scoop more onto his fingers, and his eyes stayed on Lotor's face. He was watching, seemingly entranced, eyes on Lance's fingers as they moved to his mouth, and Lance gave him a smile that did its best to be sultry as he licked them clean again. It was clearly working, if Lotor’s reaction was anything to go by. He started to reach out to do it again, half-thinking that maybe he could work Lotor up enough for a third round in a row, but Lotor’s hand moved and caught his wrist.

“As much as I could watch you do that all day, we should….” Lotor paused, as if he didn’t quite want to finish suggesting whatever he was about to suggest. “We should, perhaps,  _ actually  _ clean up.” 

“Uh,” Lance said, “yeah, I guess.” It seemed silly, if they were just gonna go again, but then, the thought of dried semen all over him didn’t actually sound all that appealing on reflection. He could bet it sounded less appealing to Lotor, who actually had it  _ in him. _

Even though he’d suggested it, there was something obviously reluctant about the way Lotor lifted himself off Lance’s cock, and he did it with a little whine that almost had Lance forgetting about the whole “clean up” plan to drag him back to bed. 

He'd known that seeing his cum leak onto Lotor's thighs would do  _ something  _ to him, but Lance  _ really  _ hadn't expected the possessive rumble he felt in his chest seeing it. Lotor was  _ his,  _ even if only for the rest of his heat, and Lance  _ liked that.  _ A  _ lot. _

He really, really had not thought he had it in him to be possessive, but apparently he did.

"Are you coming?" Lotor asked, and Lance choked, briefly, and then stumbled up. He didn't bother pretending he hadn't been completely distracted, because that was more than obvious, he was sure. He followed Lotor into the bathroom off the bedroom, and gasped when he saw what was there.

It was  _ luxurious.  _ There was a deep tub set into the ground, the size of a proper four-person hot tub back on Earth, and he could see all sorts of knobs and switches around it that he suspected were good for all kinds of effects. An open shower stall was off to the side, and there were the other traditional bathroom pieces (a sink, a toilet) but Lance couldn't make himself care about anything but the  _ tub. _

"I can't believe this was here and we had no idea!" He said.

"Well," Lotor said as he strode over to the tub, bending to start the water flowing, "now you  _ do _ know." Water flowed from jets all around the sides of the tub, rapidly starting it filling, and Lotor exhaled faintly and slid into it. "Ancestors, I've missed things like this. Galra cruisers aren't exactly built for luxury."

"What is, then?" Lance asked, without thinking. It wasn't often that Lotor said anything that even  _ sounded  _ like talking about his earlier life, and Lance wanted to grab onto even that tiny scrap of potential knowledge.

"Mm, my father's flagship has some fancier guestrooms, not unlike your castleship," Lotor said. "Once upon a time for receiving diplomatic visitors. Now, for housing his favorites, as the Empire doesn't exactly do much in the way of diplomacy these days." He sighed and stretched. “I wasn’t  usually one of the favorites, but…” Lotor shrugged his shoulders and beckoned for Lance to join him. “No matter. Come, you need to clean up as well.”

Lance slid into the water at Lotor’s request and let out a long, contented sigh. The water was exactly the perfect temperature, and like a hot tub on Earth, there was a bench he could sit on and lean against the wall, enjoying the comfort.

“Oh, that’s  _ nice,”  _ he said. He wasn’t just talking about the water, either. There was also the view, of Lotor lazily stretched out, casually wiping himself clean with a cloth left by the tub. Lance didn’t bother being subtle in his appreciation of it, either; he let his eyes blatantly trail down, and they lingered between Lotor’s legs, and he was reminded of exactly how much he really, really wanted Lotor’s cock in him. Lotor very clearly noticed his gaze, and raised a hand to wordlessly beckon Lance over, and Lance went without a second thought, climbing into Lotor’s lap and leaning in to steal a slow kiss.

“Nice indeed,” Lotor murmured against his lips, hands trailing down Lance’s sides. He let his claws press lightly into Lance’s hips, and Lance groaned softly. It felt so  _ good;  _ Lance wasn’t sure if it was because he was still turned on beyond all reason, or if that was just something he was into. He hadn’t had all that much opportunity to explore that sort of thing before. “You fit against me so nicely,” Lotor murmured, almost distractedly, and he bent to nuzzle against Lance’s neck. “Let me wash you?” 

“Sure,” Lance breathed. He was surprised by how  _ intimate  _ it felt, to have Lotor’s hand wandering over him, even with the washcloth between it and his bare skin. He’d barely been prepared for the sex, and this was...something else entirely, something he’d never even thought to consider. Yeah, sure, it was definitely like that in romance novels, but he’d always sort of thought it was an invention of the genre, and even if it wasn’t, it definitely wasn’t supposed to feel that way with two people who were just casually hooking up to deal with one of them being helplessly horny.

Maybe not only one of them, Lance had to revise mentally, when Lotor stroked the cloth over his cock and he felt himself react. Even then, though, it didn’t feel entirely sexual. There was something else there, and Lance was way more out of his depth than he’d realized.

“Your turn?” Lotor asked lightly when he finished, offering Lance the washcloth. 

“Uh,” Lance said, slightly startled by being jerked into the moment, “yeah, of course.” He took the cloth and began to draw it over Lotor, lingering briefly on his abs, because frankly Lance would like as many chances to appreciate those as he could get. Lotor was all compact muscle, and Lance couldn't help but enjoy the feel of it under his hands. He also enjoyed the feeling of Lotor relaxing beneath him, and the tiny sigh he let out as he settled into the water. It didn’t exactly take a genius to know Lotor didn’t relax much. 

He shifted so he could clean between Lotor’s thighs, and as soon as his hand moved there, he heard a tiny whimper, which drew his eyes right back to Lotor’s face. There was a flush on his cheeks, and he’d turned away, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Lance grinned, and if he lingered a little longer than was strictly necessary, it was worth it to watch Lotor’s face heat up and hear the needy little noises that slipped from his lips.

He leaned forward to drop the cloth on the side of the tub, and Lotor’s arm snaked around his waist, pulling him close for another kiss. Lance leaned into it happily, letting his arms drape over Lotor’s shoulders, and when Lotor deepened the kiss, tongue teasing at Lance’s lips, he moaned and parted them, rolling his hips forward and grinding against Lotor. When they broke, Lance gave Lotor a slightly teasing grin. 

“I’d  _ really _ like you to fuck me,” he said, and he watched Lotor’s eyes darken. That sent a shiver down his spine, the way Lotor looked at him, like he was prey and Lotor was a seasoned predator.

Lance was pretty okay with the thought of being devoured.

“I would be  _ happy _ to,” Lotor purred, and then he slid his arms under Lance’s hips and stood, casually picking Lance up. The easy display of strength went straight to Lance’s cock; he absolutely  _ loved _ how it felt to be manhandled, carried from the bathroom back to the bedroom, where Lotor casually deposited him on the bed like he weighed nothing at all. He was halfway ready to settle back into the sheets before he remembered, distantly, that they were both still soaking wet, and he felt a flush that was more embarrassment than heat burn up on his cheeks. 

“Could you, uh, grab a towel, before we get too much farther?” He asked, and Lotor blinked, like the prospect hadn’t even occurred to him. Honestly, it probably hadn’t and it wouldn’t have to Lance if he couldn’t feel the water soaking off him and onto the bed. 

“Of course,” Lotor said, and his eyes flicked blatantly up and down Lance. “While I’m getting that, find some lubricant? There  _ should  _ be some, and it shouldn’t be too hard to find.” Lance nodded, briefly, and then slid off the bed and moved over to the dresser, opening drawers to search. There were extra clothes, which was a nice consideration, and in the third drawer down he found not only lube but a few other things that he would absolutely have to consider coming back to later—items that he was pretty sure were alien dildos, as well as several strips of cloth that looked like they could function as blindfolds, gags, bonds, or any number of other potentially kinky things. For a moment, Lance let himself imagine being tied down while Lotor fucked him, but maybe that was best saved for later.

He picked the bottle of lube up, and as he was moving to shut the drawer, he felt a towel drape around his shoulders. There was a low, considering him from behind him.

“Another time, perhaps,” Lotor said, and he reached around Lance to shut the drawer and tug him away. Lance made an agreeing noise, and let Lotor towel him off as he guided him back to the bed. He let the towel slide off as Lotor pushed him back onto the mattress. “Get on all fours,” Lotor said, and Lance rapidly complied. Lotor ran a clawed finger down his spine, and Lance let out a little whine, arching into it. “I have a knot,” Lotor began, as his finger rested at the base of Lance’s spine and Lance felt the claw retract.

“I noticed,” Lance said, and Lotor let out a little snort as he uncapped the bottle of lube and began to work a finger into Lance. 

“Do you want it?” Lotor asked. Lance nodded eagerly. “I’d like to hear you say it,” Lotor said, as he worked a second finger into Lance and moved them around enough to press against Lance’s prostate.

_ “Fuck, _ ” Lance gasped, “yes, yes I do, and keep doing that.” Lotor purred and complied eagerly, fingers working Lance’s prostate as they worked him open. Lance didn’t bother trying to muffle his moans; he wanted Lotor to know exactly what this was doing to him, and if the low growls he could hear were any indication, Lotor was very satisfied with it. He rolled his hips back onto Lotor’s fingers just as Lotor slid a third into him, and a desperate whine passed his lips. It felt so  _ good,  _ but he wanted Lotor’s  _ cock,  _ even though the rational part of his mind that had registered how big it was knew that he would need this. 

“I can’t  _ wait _ to have you,” Lotor growled, and Lance whined in response, fucking back against Lotor’s hand. It felt like it took forever, but Lotor finally withdrew his hand, and Lance glanced over his shoulder to watch him slicking up his cock. He kept watching as Lotor laid a hand on his back and began to push into him, and Lance could feel the tiered ridges of his cock catching on his rim as he pressed in. He didn’t hilt on the first thrust; instead he began to fuck Lance slowly, hands moving to gently grip his hips and hold him in place. Lance moaned loudly, and tried to meet him, but Lotor tightened his grip on his hips. “No, darling. Let me,” Lotor purred.

“Faster, please,” Lance said, and Lotor hummed his agreement as he began to pick up his pace. It was even better than Lance had even thought to imagine, the hot stretch of Lotor’s thick, ridged cock inside him driving him wild. “So good, fuck,  _ Lotor,”  _ he moaned, and Lotor bent over Lance’s back to press kisses down his neck.

“Lance,” Lotor breathed his name, and it sounded almost reverent, and Lance shuddered as Lotor’s hand came around to stroke his cock, driving him closer to orgasm. He could feel Lotor’s knot beginning to swell, catching on his rim like another ridge. “Lance,  _ fuck, _ ” his strokes to Lance’s cock sped up in time with his thrusts, and Lance moaned, desperately.

“I’m close, Lotor, I’m so close,” he gasped, and Lotor groaned and used the remaining hand on his hip to yank him back, hard, and Lance felt his knot swell up inside him, locking them together. At the same time, Lotor’s teeth sank into his neck, and he cried out at the sudden onrush of pleasure from the bite and from the feeling of Lotor spilling inside him, rushing over the edge to orgasm. Lotor gave a few more little abortive thrusts inside him, and then nuzzled against the bite on his neck and murmured something Lance couldn’t quite catch—and even if he had gotten all of it, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t understand, because what he had caught sounded like Galra. 

Lotor dragged him down onto the bed like his weight was nothing and curled around him, still nuzzling and pressing light kisses to Lance’s neck. Lance was surprised by how tired he felt, suddenly, but maybe he shouldn’t have been; three rounds of fairly intense sex was a lot for  _ anyone,  _ especially with so little a break in between.

Besides, it was comfortable, and he wasn’t going anywhere anyway, not with Lotor’s knot still locking them together. So he settled in Lotor’s arms, closed his eyes, and let himself fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Lance woke what he guessed was a few hours later, still comfortably settled in Lotor’s arms. He’d rolled over in his sleep at some point, apparently, because his face was pressed against Lotor’s chest, and he was surprised at how comfortable that felt. He could still smell the sweet aroma of Lotor’s heat thick in the air, but there was definitely an underlying scent of sex and sweat, and he _felt_ sticky after their last round. A glance at the clock by the bed told him he’d missed dinner, but hadn’t missed the entire day; it was also late enough that his little walk of…..not quite shame wouldn’t be witnessed by any of the other Paladins when he went to grab dinner for himself and Lotor.

He slowly disentangled himself from Lotor, doing his best not to disturb him. Lance would be lying if he said he hadn't noticed that Lotor always seemed to be exhausted, and it seemed fair to let him sleep when he could. Standing, too, was a slow process, because even having slept it off a little, there was definitely still an ache from having taken Lotor’s knot. Lance had absolutely zero regrets, though; frankly he was eager to do it all over again.

It was stupid, because this wasn’t some sweet romantic rendezvous, but Lance leaned in to brush some of Lotor’s hair away from his face and pressed a kiss to his forehead before he left the bedroom. There wasn’t a good reason for it, not really, but he didn’t feel like he needed one. Lotor certainly wasn’t awake to question it.

He slipped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, glad to find it more than stocked with all the essentials. There were parts of his skincare routine he would have to skip, he supposed, because all the stuff he needed for it was in _his_ room, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make for the sake of….everything he was getting here. His skin would survive two days, probably.

He threw on his discarded shirt and pants without bothering to worry about how it might look, took one last glance back at Lotor to confirm he was still sleeping, and slipped out of the room. He knew he had to look like an absolute wreck; the t-shirt he’d thrown on was probably doing nothing to hide any of the bite marks or scratches Lotor had left on him, and he’d been counting on there being nobody else present.

Unfortunately, when he got to the kitchen, it wasn’t as empty as he’d hoped. _Fortunately,_ it was Keith and Shiro, who, as always, were so wrapped up in each other they hadn’t noticed him come in. He could see abandoned sandwiches on the counter, which indicated they’d been in the middle of preparing food when they decided to be obnoxiously cute with each other rather than finish. Shiro’s fingers were running through Keith’s hair, and Keith was resting against his chest and _purring._

Well, fine, he’d use them being distracted to make it easier to get to the refrigeration unit, pull out some of Hunk’s leftovers, and bring them back to Lotor. Something in Lance already missed being near him, which was _absurd_ and he was pretty sure that was just the draw of more incredibly intense marathon sex.

He started to slip over to the fridge, trying to ignore the ridiculous cuddlefest going on somewhere to his left, when Keith made a noise that was more like a growl than a purr and Shiro groaned and that was _exactly enough of that._

“Hey, guys,” Lance said loudly, which startled them into jumping apart. Shiro actually looked abashed, but Keith narrowed his eyes and gave Lance a look that was clearly daring him to ask questions — and he held it right up until he recognized Lance’s disheveled state.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked, looking genuinely surprised. Shiro, on the other hand, looked downright _concerned._

“Did you get attacked by something?” He asked. “And where have you been? No one has seen you all day.” Lance swallowed.

“Uh, not exactly _attacked,”_ he rubbed at the side of his neck, over one of Lotor’s bite marks. “It’s. Uh.” He ducked into the fridge and started searching for things that would taste okay cold. He didn’t bother sorting them out onto plates, just stacked containers on the counter. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He moved over to grab utensils, which meant moving close to Keith, which meant Keith getting a good look at his neck.

“Is that a _bite mark_?” Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “I….didn’t know things were going so well for you and. Uh, anyone.”

“Keith!” Shiro said, and Lance self-consciously smacked a hand over the mark on his neck - not that it was the only one, but, you know, on principle.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Lance said very quickly. “I, uh.”

Oh, hell. He might as well tell _someone,_ and Keith and Shiro were pretty familiar with freaky alien sex shit, by virtue of one of them being kind of a freaky alien now, so maybe they weren’t the _worst_ people to tell.

“Lotor has some kind of freaky alien heat thing and we’ve kind of been having marathon sex and I’m really only here to grab some food so neither of us passes out.”

Both of them stared at him in dead, stunned silence for what felt like forever.

“That’s, uh, not a Galra thing,” Keith said, finally.

“Apparently it’s Altean, actually,” Lance said.

“...Huh.” Shiro sounded a little bit dazed. “Well. Have fun, I guess.”

Lance gathered up the containers of food and set the utensils on top of the stack and proceeded to book it for the door as fast as possible.

 

* * *

 

Keith stared at Lance’s retreating back, and then he made a noise somewhere between horror and disgust.

“Someone’s gonna have to talk to Lance about pairbonds,” he groaned. “I’m gonna have to have a verbal conversation with Lance where I ask him about _fucking Lotor.”_

“I can do it,” Shiro offered, “but you’re right, it has to be done.”

“No, I’ll. Take this one, I guess.” Keith buried his face in Shiro’s shirt and muttered a very bitter “ _fuck.”_

 

* * *

 

Lance stepped back into the room, to find Lotor still passed out on the bed. In Lance’s absence, his position had shifted; he was laying on his side, legs partially pulled up towards his chest, hair cascading out behind him, and the sight was utterly arresting. Lance knew there was going to be no going back to seeing him as just an ally after this - not when he’d seen him soft and vulnerable, looking more beautiful than any woman Lance had ever even _considered_ pursuing.

He set the food down on his desk and spent a moment considering not waking him up, but they _did_ both have to eat, so he compromised with himself by sitting on the bed and reaching out to gently stroke Lotor’s hair. Lotor purred quietly, and his eyes slowly fluttered open, and he turned his head to lean into Lance’s hand, which Lance took as all the invitation he needed to keep stroking. It was almost bizarre to see the fierce Galra prince like this, purring and affectionate, but Lance wasn’t planning to trade it for _anything._

“I got us some food,” Lance said, and Lotor made a satisfied little hum.

“Is _that_ why you’re dressed,” he said, and then he shifted and climbed into Lance’s lap, draping his arms around his shoulders and nuzzling his face against Lance’s throat. “Because you are wearing _far_ too much clothing, _again,_ after I already put out the effort to get it off you.”

“You can’t tell me you’re already ready to go again,” Lance laughed, a little, though he had to admit the idea wasn’t completely awful.

“Mm,” Lotor hummed, “the need is not as...intense, now. You’ll note I’m able to form coherent sentences about subjects other than sex. But I would _like_ to go again.” He sighed, slightly dramatically, and disentangled himself from Lance, stretching languidly. “We _should_ eat first, though, yes.”

Lance was pretty sure he could be forgiven for staring at Lotor’s ass as he stood up and walked over to the desk, especially since Lotor was swaying his hips in a fairly blatant display. Of all the adjectives he’d thought to assign to Lotor, Lance hadn’t ever really put “purposely seductive” on the list, but apparently he should have, because. Damn.

Once he could actually think again, Lance slowly pushed himself off the bed and followed Lotor to the desk, picking up one of the leftover containers at total random and digging in. It was something that almost resembled stuffing for a turkey, but with very different ingredients and some kind of strange, tangy meat. Lance had no idea what it was, and he really didn’t care. Hunk worked miracles with space food, he really did.

He found his eyes casually drifting over to Lotor the entire time he was eating, taking in the sight of him leaned back against the desk, looking wholly relaxed and calm, except that he was blatantly hard. Just seeing it had a low simmer of arousal stirring in the back of Lance’s head.

“Are you just...ready to go your entire heat?” Lance asked. Lotor made a _“hmm?”_ noise that had no right to be as adorable as it was, glanced down, and shrugged.

“Yes,” he replied. “It isn’t uncomfortable, or no more so than unattended arousal usually is, as long as I have a partner. An extended heat without proper satisfaction is… _more_ unpleasant by a large margin, but nothing I have not survived before.” He paused, for a moment, regarding Lance. “If you wish, you can leave. By tomorrow you won’t want to, with the additional exposure to my heat pheromones, and I won’t be coherent enough to offer.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Lance said without hesitation. He wasn’t sure why, but even the thought made him feel more than a little miserable. “Actually, I was kinda thinking,” he said, to distract himself, “I found those um. Restraints, and.”

“Lance, are you asking me to tie you up?” Lotor asked, eyebrows going up. Lance swore he could _feel_ Lotor’s utter disbelief.

“....Yes?” Lance said, and Lotor gave him a flat look over his container of food.

“Not that I’m opposed to the idea,” he said, “but if you have any hesitation at all...it seems less than well advised, to me.”

“No, no, come on,” Lance said, and he hoped his sincere interest showed in his voice, “I really really want this, I’ve thought about it a _lot,_ like, it’s kinda featured in a lot of fantasies for a _while?_ ” He realized he was rambling a little, but he couldn’t actually stop himself. “See there was this girl, and I thought she was into me, and she cuffed me to a tree and I thought to myself _‘well hey, I never thought about it but I’m pretty sure I’m down’_ but she was uh, not down, and was actually just trying to steal my Lion, and really the point here is that I really wanna be tied up and I really want you to do it.”

Lotor tilted his head to the side and set the container of food down, covering it and taking a long moment to examine Lance. Lance was silent, holding his breath, barely daring to hope Lotor might be deciding that _he_ wanted what _Lance_ wanted.

"If that's what you want," Lotor said, and there was a commanding tone in his voice that sent tingles straight down Lance's spine, "you'll have to earn it. Prove you can submit to me."

"Whatever you want," Lance said, and as much as he was pretty sure Lotor's heat pheromones were definitely influencing him, a lot of his desire to please Lotor was just.....his own desire to please Lotor, still every inch the Prince even if he had been deposed from his throne.

"A good start," Lotor said. He hummed for a moment. "Before we start, I need a word from you. Something that you can use to stop everything, if you need to."

"I feel like this is maybe a discussion we should have had earlier," Lance said, and Lotor laughed.

"Perhaps. So, a word?" It was a simple request, but one that Lance actively had to think about for a moment.

"Hedgehog?" He suggested. If someone asked him, he wouldn't have been able to explain how he got there, except that it was the first thing he thought of that wasn't likely to come up related to sex. Lotor gave a brief nod.

"That will do," he said. "Now, get out of those clothes, and come over here." Lance nodded eagerly, stripping quickly, but also putting in some effort to make it at least a little bit sexy. Lotor was watching like he expected a show, and Lance was nothing if not a performer. "Very good," Lotor purred. Lance took a few steps forward, and Lotor gave a brief nod downwards. He hardly had to _say_ "on your knees" before Lance was there, eyes on Lotor's cock. "Would you like to suck my cock?" Lotor asked. "I know you've been staring, and I know how much you liked having it in you."

"Yeah," Lance said, "I'd like that a lot."

"If you need me to stop, here, tap my thigh three times," Lotor said, and Lance nodded. “Show me,” Lotor said, and Lance did, tapping Lotor’s thigh three times with his index finger. "Very good." Lotor twisted his fingers in Lance's hair—too short, Lance supposed, for him to get a really good grip, but long enough—and tugged him forward, and Lance opened his mouth, taking him in. Lotor groaned as soon as Lance started sucking, but when he tried to move his head to take more, Lotor tugged sharply on his hair. "You get what you're given, no more," he said. Lance whined, muffled, and Lotor sighed heavily, but he pulled Lance's head forward anyway.

It was good. Really good. His precum was sweet, just like his cum had been, and Lance was pretty sure it came with a concentrated version of the effects of his pheromones, because the more he sucked, the hazier his thinking got and the more focused he was on pleasing Lotor above everything else. He could feel his own hard-on aching between his thighs, but he ignored it for that moment, because there was something much more important. He didn't quite get down to the base, but he felt the head bump against his throat and he whined, desperately, struggling a little to get that bit more forward to swallow.

"So _eager_ ," Lotor sighed, and then he began to slowly fuck into Lance's mouth at an easy, lazy pace. He held Lance in place with his fist in his hair, and all Lance could do—all Lance _wanted_ to do—was take it. It hurt to have Lotor’s cock bumping against the back of his throat, but it felt good, too, and Lance desperately wanted to actually be able to swallow him, even if realistically Lotor was way too thick to fit. “And you look so lovely on your knees.” The praise made Lance flush, and Lotor made a satisfied little noise. Lotor's pace began to pick up, and Lance whined helplessly, eager beyond belief to have more. He loved how Lotor's cock felt in his mouth, thick and heavy and like nothing he’d ever had before.

Lotor wasn't exactly quiet either, moaning eagerly and picking up his pace more. Lance could feel his knot bumping against his lips, and for one very long, very foolish moment he thought very hard about actually swallowing that. There was no way, of course; he was pretty sure he _could_ take it, but Lotor wouldn't give it to him, for good reason. The thought of having his jaw stretched open for however long it took Lotor's knot to deflate—and he had no actual clue how long that was, really—was incredibly unpleasant. So, no.

"I'm close," Lotor moaned, finally, and Lance whined eagerly. "Do you want to swallow, or do you want my cum all over your pretty face?" Lotor asked, and then he tugged Lance off his cock. "I want to hear you answer me."

"I want to swallow it," Lance groaned, and Lotor grinned eagerly.

"Excellent," he said, and then he yanked Lance back down and fucked his face harder than before, moaning the entire time, until finally Lance felt his knot grow to full size against his lips and cum began to pour down his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to swallow all of it, but there was _so much_ , more than he'd ever really dealt with from a partner on Earth, and he could barely keep up. He could feel some of it dribbling past his lips, and when Lotor pulled his cock out, more escaped.

Lotor released his grip on Lance's hair and reached down to cup his chin, brushing a thumb over a dribble on Lance's chin, and he sighed.

"You look so good, with my cum on your face, and you took my cock in your mouth so _very_ well." He bent down and pressed his lips to Lance's, and Lance sighed into the kiss, eyes fluttering closed. Right then, he could only think about how _nice_ all this felt, how good the praise was, how Lotor's other hand gently combing through his hair and soothing the ache of having it pulled felt so good and gentle, and how all he wanted was to keep satisfying Lotor. When Lotor pulled back, there was a playful grin on his face. "Now," he said, “do you still want me to tie you up?"

"Yes," Lance said, and he shifted a little, like that might relieve some of the ache of his straining erection. His voice was a little hoarse, but that wasn't all that surprising after getting face-fucked so nicely. "Yes, I still want you to tie me up. I want that a whole lot," he said, and Lotor gave a brief nod.

"Go over to the bed," he said, "and lay on it with your arms above your head." As Lance moved to obey, Lotor cast a critical eye over the bed itself, and Lance realized with a thrill that he was probably considering whether or not he could tie Lance to it. God, Lance really, really hoped he could. The headboard was made up of individual metal bars, and Lance was pretty sure they'd be great for securing him to. It was also pretty sturdy, or at least it _looked_ pretty sturdy, and given that there were bondage implements in the room, Lance was pretty sure it was designed to be sturdy enough to handle an Altean. Like, say Allura, who could pick up _Shiro_ and throw him across a room. Lance was pretty noodly in comparison to either of them, so he was pretty sure that even if he _did_ struggle, it wouldn't do much.

Lotor gave the bed one last glance and then went into the drawer and pulled out three of the cloth strips.

"Something simple, for now," he said. "Perhaps if we do this again after my heat, I can try something more....elaborate." Lance felt his cock jump at the prospect.

"Sounds good," he said. The implication that Lotor might still want to sleep with him even once the weird alien heat was over felt pretty damn good, but that wasn't what was really important right them. What definitely _was_ really important right then was that Lotor moved to straddle him and tugged his wrists into position, binding them to separate rods on the headboard.

"Tug on those?" Lotor said, and Lance did, and found that he really couldn't get much in the way of leverage even when he tried really hard. Not that it mattered, because whatever the headboard and the cloths were made of, they were more than strong enough that he couldn't make them move, no matter how much he tried. "Very good," Lotor said, and he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Lance's nose. "Comfortable?" He asked.

"Yeah," Lance said, and Lotor hummed pleasantly.

"Good." He drew the third strip over Lance's eyes and secured it behind his head, and Lance couldn't suppress an involuntary little whine. He _liked_ seeking Lotor while Lotor fucked him, and he was definitely more than a little disappointed about being denied the opportunity. "None of that, Paladin," Lotor said lightly. "You'll have plenty of chances to see me. For now, I think I like it better if you can't."

Without being able to see it coming, Lance had no warning that Lotor was leaning down to flick his tongue over Lance's nipples, and the sensation made him jolt and gasp. Lotor let out a satisfied little hum and drew one into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it and sucking on the sensitive bud until Lance ended up whimpering and crying out. He moved to the other one and gave it the same treatment, and pulled back with a parting flick of his tongue, and then blew on it right as his hands moved to rest against Lance's hips, claws extending and digging into his skin just enough to straddle the border between being painful and pleasurable. The twin sensations made Lance whine needily, and his back arched up towards Lotor's mouth.

"So _responsive_ ," Lotor sighed fondly. "I love it, you know. Galra can be so very buttoned up about their pleasure, but not you. I could listen to you moan forever." Lance felt his cheeks heat up, and he automatically turned his head away, but one of Lotor's hands moved from his hips to lightly grip his chin and turn him back to facing forward. "No, no, none of that. I want to see as much of that lovely face as I can," he said, and Lance felt his blush darken, but this time he didn't turn away. Lotor let out a pleased little hum, and leaned up to press a brief kiss to his lips, before moving down to begin trailing them down from his chest to his stomach. As he got closer to Lance's cock, Lance shuddered, feeling an ache settling in his groin.

Finally, Lotor made it there, and he took Lance's cock in his mouth, and Lance let out a desperate little moan. Lotor's hands on his hips kept him still, but if they hadn't been there, there was absolutely no way he would have been able to resist fucking into Lotor's mouth, because Lotor was _incredibly_ good with his tongue. He sucked and licked eagerly at Lance's cock, and Lance was almost embarrassed at how quickly he found himself careening towards orgasm. He'd lasted longer earlier; it was a little ridiculous that being tied down and technically helpless was having this much of an effect on him. As soon as Lotor started to swallow his cock, he was gone, over the edge and spilling with a yell. Lotor pulled off and gave his cock a brief lick, and let out a little hum of amusement.

"So, so very eager," he said, voice playful. "And," Lance couldn't see it, but he could imagine Lotor licking his lips when he paused briefly, "tastes _very_ good." Lance knew his face had to be practically permanently red, from all the teasing Lotor was doing, and he fidgeted a little, embarrassed by the whole thing. Lotor laughed, but it didn't sound derisive at all, and he pressed a brief kiss to Lance's cock.

Lance could feel him shifting, but he couldn't see what he was doing, so it was still a surprise when Lotor dropped down onto his cock, sheathing Lance in him in a single movement. Lance cried out, fucking up into him without a thought, and Lotor let out a long, low moan in response.

"Fuck," he gasped, and Lance couldn't help but feel that was a fairly accurate description of how he was feeling about this whole thing, too. "I thought about fucking you," Lotor said, and Lance had to admit that was sort of what he'd been expecting, "but I need you in me, need you to fill me up and _breed_ me, so I'm  going to ride you until you're all out of cum. How does that sound?"

"That sounds good," Lance said, "fuck, Lotor that sounds _so_ good, please." He knew he was barely coherent, but it didn't matter; the promise presented to him was so damn exciting that he couldn't think about anything else. Lotor didn't bother starting slow; he bounced on Lance's cock with eager abandon, and Lance met his thrusts, moaning unashamedly the entire time. He wished he could see Lotor's face; he hoped his head was thrown back in ecstasy, because Lance was pretty damn sure this felt more intense than the last time they'd fucked.

It almost felt like he was feeling Lotor's pleasure along with his own; he'd heard being blinded heightened your other senses, but this was beyond even what he'd expected. It was all a blur of sensation; the hot, wet feeling of Lotor around him, the heady scent of Lotor's heat pheromones in the air, the sound of Lotor's moans and cries of pleasure, the desperate way Lotor said his name—all of it was just shy of too much, and Lance loved it. Sure, it wasn't what he'd expected, getting tied down, but he was pretty okay with that, because this was even _better_ than he'd expected.

His first orgasm snuck up on him, and he screamed as it hit, back arching off the bed.

"Good," Lotor gasped, but he didn't slow down, "so good, yes, that's exactly what I need. _You_ are exactly what I need." Lance tried not to think too hard about how good that made him feel, because his collection of complicated feelings for Lotor were a subject for another time, especially since it was hard to focus on anything when Lotor was still riding him eagerly. He could have sworn he could _feel_ Lotor’s building orgasm, even if that was impossible, and it drove him to his second one even faster than he’d hit his first.

“Fuck, fuck, _Lotor!”_ He screamed his name as he came, straining against the bonds but finding no give.

“Lance,” Lotor gasped his name, and he stopped for a moment, and Lance could feel his thighs trembling. “Feels so good, but need...need _more_ ,” he said. “Want to be so full of your cum you can _see_ it.” The thought sent a shiver up and down Lance’s spine. Lotor rolled his hips and moaned, long and low, and he kept going. “Fuck, Lance, I want to be full of your _kits.”_ The image was almost enough to make Lance cum again, just the _thought_ of Lotor round and pregnant and so visibly _his._

“Fuck, Lotor, yes, I want—I need that,” he gasped, and Lotor made a noise of agreement and started riding him again. On Lance’s third climax, Lotor peaked with him, but even that didn’t really seem to slow him down.

Lance quickly lost track of how many times he came; he knew he wouldn’t have been capable of it without Lotor’s pheromones keeping him going, but even then he was quickly turning into a whimpering, trembling wreck, barely able to focus on anything other than the feeling of Lotor’s tight heat squeezing around his cock. Even though he was aching and overstimulated, it still felt incredible, and every sensation was heightened by his lack of vision.

Finally, he felt himself peak dry with a desperate little sob, and Lotor stopped moving, claws gently running down his chest. The sensation on his overheated skin drew another whimper from Lance’s lips.

“I can’t—I don’t—” Lance whined, barely able to put words together.

“Shh,” Lotor said, and Lance silenced himself at the gentle command. “I’m going to finish myself off, and then I’m going to untie you. Is that alright, darling?”

“Yes,” Lance said, and he was amazed he could even say that much. He couldn’t see Lotor stroking himself, and he wished he could, but he could hear Lotor’s desperate little whimpers, and he could definitely feel when Lotor’s cunt squeezed around him, and the hot splash of his cum on Lance’s stomach. True to his word, when he was done Lotor started untying him, undoing the blindfold first and then the ropes around his wrists.

Lance blinked for a moment to adjust to the light, and once he could see he focused on Lotor, who had moved off him and was sitting on the bed beside him, a hand on his stomach. Lance could actually see a little bulge under Lotor’s palm, and the sight was _incredible._ That little bit was absolutely enough to fan the flames of his desire to actually see Lotor heavy with child—with _his_ child.

“Can you do something for me, darling?” Lotor asked. “After that, I think you’re due a bath, but. One thing, first.”

“Whatever you want,” Lance said, and Lotor hummed briefly and leaned over to press a kiss to Lance’s cheek.

“Get one of the dildos, from the drawer. One with a nice, broad, flat base. I want to keep all of that cum in me,” Lotor said, and Lance made a tiny noise of surprise.

“Fuck that’s hot,” he said, without thinking. It _was;_ Lotor plugged up and full of his cum sent that possessive feeling he’d felt before roaring in his chest, made him want the whole world to know and see that Lotor was _his._ Lotor made a soft purring noise and leaned over to kiss him, and Lance growled softly and leaned in, making it sloppier. Lotor indulged for a moment, and then pulled away.

“Well?” He asked, lightly.

“Uh, right,” Lance said. He pushed himself off the bed and stumbled over to the dresser, amazed the whole time that he was managing to stay upright on legs that were very much wobbly. His entire body sort of felt fuzzy, and he figured that wasn’t to surprising after so many orgasms in a row. More than he was really designed to have, he was pretty sure.

He selected a dildo that fit what Lotor had requested, but turned around to show it to him anyway before he wobbled back.

“Perfect,” Lotor said, and he leaned partway back on the bed, spreading his legs like an invitation. Lance could see a little dribble of cum leaking out of him, and that was plenty of encouragement to wobble his way over and push the toy into Lotor, who tilted his head back and moaned, rolling his hips forward as Lance pushed it in. “ _Perfect,”_ he said again, and then he pushed himself into a standing position and scooped Lance up. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

* * *

 

After the first day, the whole thing was something of a blur. Lance figured he could hardly be blamed for losing track of time, because Lotor hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that the effects of his pheromones on Lance would get stronger the longer he was exposed to it. He knew some enterprising soul brought them food a few times, which was for the best because at no point was he actually up to leave the room again. He had no idea who it was, though if he had to bet money he’d pick Hunk. Otherwise, though, anything outside the suite he shared with Lotor might as well not have existed, as far as Lance was concerned.

He woke up on the fourth day curled up against Lotor, face pressed against his neck, and he could tell immediately that the pheromones were gone, because he could breathe without being completely overwhelmed by the desire to pin Lotor to the bed and fuck him until he screamed, or to have Lotor do that to him.

It was quiet and peaceful, and Lance felt remarkably content. He could have stayed there forever, curled up against Lotor’s chest, lingering between asleep and awake and enjoying the warmth of another body against his, but that wasn’t to be.

Lotor stirred against him, and before Lance really had a moment to be sure of what was going on, Lotor was out of bed and very distinctly not looking at him. He could see that Lotor had wrapped his arms around himself, and a sinking feeling settled in Lance’s stomach.

“Leave, please,” Lotor said, voice quiet. Lance felt a jolt of surprise. That was the last thing he’d expected. Sure, he knew they would have to part eventually, but he’d kind of hoped for a lazy morning together before he was unceremoniously thrown out on his ass.

“Uh,” he said, “okay?” He wanted to reach out and touch Lotor, to ask if he was okay, but everything in the way Lotor had drawn in on himself indicated that he was absolutely not interested in any of that. Besides, that wasn’t his job. He’d offered himself up to Lotor to satisfy a need, not to fix his undoubtedly myriad emotional issues. He was Lotor’s one-night (or, three-night) stand, not his lover.

So Lance retreated from the room, and hated that it felt like he left a piece of his heart behind.

 

* * *

 

Lotor managed to get himself from the room he’d shared with Lance back to the one he usually slept in, but anything more than that felt like far too much of an effort when he was feeling so utterly _alone._

It wasn’t as if he was confused about the source of the empty feeling in his chest, either. It had been a mistake in many, many ways to share a bed with Lance; he had opened himself up far too much for something that was only ever going to be temporary. He should have refused, when Lance showed up at his door, should have accepted the offered food and then shut the door in his face and suffered through a heat alone, because surely that was better than...this.

Better than knowing how Lance looked when he slept, and how his kisses tasted, and how beautifully he came apart, and knowing that Lotor would never get to experience those things again, because _Lance did not love him back,_ and it was foolish to hope that would ever change.

At least he had made the right choice in shuffling Lance out quickly. No need to make things awkward, or make Lance feel like Lotor expected anything more from him than what he’d given. 

He glanced over at the mirror, and his eyes were drawn to the bite mark at the base of his neck, still dark and prominent even though he knew it had been left days before. He glanced down at his hips—the bruises from Lance’s hands were much more faded, even though they had been left around the same time.

The realization of what he had done slapped into him, and Lotor felt a crashing, _crushing_ wave of guilt.

“No,” he whispered, turning fully to face the mirror and reaching up to press his fingers against the mark. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ Everything about his choice to take Lance to bed had been idiotic, from start to finish, and he had somehow managed to compound his own idiocy _spectacularly._

It only made sense. The ache in his chest, the low hum of not-quite-his-own feelings in the back of his head, the _crash_ he had felt the moment he sent Lance away. It wasn’t his own overcomplicated, idiotic pining, or at least not that alone. Because of _course_ somewhere in the haze of his heat and the heady satisfaction of having Lance beautiful and pliant and begging beneath him, he’d marked him. _Bonded_ him. Lance, who may have warmed to him somewhat but who undoubtedly, and not unfairly, still saw him as an enemy. A pretty one, a beddable one, but an _enemy._

How could he possibly have been so _stupid?_

There was only one possible solution. Find Lance, beg for his forgiveness—not that Lotor expected to receive it, nor did he deserve it _,_ trapping Lance in an unwanted pairbond was the cruelest thing he could have possibly done—and swear to stay away from him and let the bond fray and break.

No matter how much he wanted this, Lance most certainly _didn’t._ Beyond that, if the Empire discovered, somehow…

No. He would end this, and the bond would break, and that would be that. Lance would be allowed to go on despising him in peace, and Lotor could return to empty, hopeless pining. It would be fine.

 

* * *

 

 

Lance wasn’t sure what to make of the mix of restless energy and miserable listlessness he felt, much less what to do with it. The best option seemed to be the training room, because at least then he was burning off the energy, even if part of him just wanted to curl up in a corner and cry.

What had he even _expected,_ realistically? Whatever chance he might have had with Lotor romantically, he’d probably burned it to the ground by being a jealous idiot over Allura. Allura who was definitely not into noodly human dudes _or_ Galtean pretty boys, if the way he’d seen her staring at Kolivan’s ass after the last joint strategy session with the Blades was any indication. (Not that Lance could blame her. It was a _fine_ ass.)

Point being: he had been stupid to get all up in arms over Lotor and Allura’s budding friendship. Of course they were close, they were two of three living Alteans. Haggar didn’t count; Lance was pretty sure Honerva was ten thousand years dead, even if her corpse was still up and walking. And, yeah, if Lance had managed to find another Cuban out here? He’d have thrown himself at their feet for friendly interactions so fast it gave anyone around then whiplash. So he got it. He did. He was well and over his jealousy, especially since he wasn’t so much interested in Allura anymore, because unfortunately for him, he was in love with said Galtean pretty boy.

Who probably, not unfairly, totally hated him and had only agreed to sleep with him because it was that or suffer through a heat alone, whatever else he’d thought during Lotor’s heat.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid._

He finally turned around and stormed off the training deck, feeling no better about anything and in fact feeling actively _more_ miserable about _everything._ His chest hurt, like a physical symptom of how lost and alone he felt, and he wasn’t even sure where he was heading, just that “not in the training room” sounded like a really great place to be right then.

It took him a couple solid minutes to even register that someone was calling his name.

“Lance,” Keith jogged to catch up with him, stopping him with a hand on the shoulder, and that was about when he actually registered that someone else was there. Lance turned to face him, feeling a little guilty, especially when he got a good look at the concern written all over Keith’s face. Sure, he was all fuzzy and purple now, but he was just as expressive as he’d always been. “Can we talk?”

“Uh, sure,” Lance said. Keith suddenly looked deeply uncomfortable, and Lance had the sinking feeling he was not going to enjoy this conversation at all.

“So. You know Shiro and I are kind of...pairbonded, right?” Keith asked. Lance nodded, slowly.

“It’s like Galra marriage, right? Except also a weird magic emotional bond,” he said.

“Right,” Keith said. “It’s not _really_ magic, but I don’t get the science, so, uh. Anyway. My point is, are you feeling any kind of...pull, towards Lotor?”

“Uh,” Lance said, and he considered. Yeah, he wanted to be back with Lotor, pretty urgently, but that seemed like a perfectly reasonable reaction to what had happened between them, and also a natural result of the fact that he was head over heels. “I don’t think so. Maybe?”

Keith put his face in his hands, but Lance could still see the dark magenta flush on his cheeks.

“When the two of you were having sex, did he. Uh.” Keith paused. He sounded like he’d rather die than finish what he was asking. “Knot...you? Or bite you? On the neck?”

“ _What?”_ Lance asked.

“It’s how pairbonds form, or at least part of the process,” Keith said very quickly. “It’s how I ended up accidentally bonding Shiro, and. Uh.”

“Oh my god,” Lance said. “You _have_ one of those?” No wonder Keith looked like he wanted to die on the spot. “Wait, Shiro _bottoms_?”

“Not so loud!” Keith said. “Look, Lance, just—I don’t want to see you accidentally pairbonded to Lotor. He’s not...as terrible as we thought he was, but he’s still kind of our enemy. So if he hasn’t already, just...don’t let him.”

“It, uh. Might be too late.” Lance confessed, reaching up to rub a thumb over the bite mark on his neck, the one that hadn’t faded at all in three days. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“There wasn’t a reason to!” Keith said. “I’m not exactly looking to shout intimate details of my sex life with Shiro into the void of space, Lance.”

“Okay, but, like, forewarned is forearmed and everything?” Lance said. “I could have avoided this whole thing.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Just...Lotor wouldn’t be stupid about it, I guess.” Keith exhaled. “He was raised Galra, he probably knows all that. Just. Forget I said anything, it’s probably not going to be a problem.”

“I...okay,” Lance said. He reached up and pressed a hand to the mark on his neck a little self-consciously. “Say that um, something _did_ happen. If I thought we might have bonded, what should I be paying attention to?”

Keith tilted his head to the side, one ear flicking. He looked so much like an actual cat that Lance was briefly distracted, until he started talking.

“You’ll be able to feel what he’s feeling—emotions, sensations—but it’s not mind reading, so. No context. Just...if you’re feeling things you’re pretty sure aren’t actually you, it’s a good bet you’re bonded. It’ll also start physically hurting to be away from him.” Keith’s hand curled into a fist and he rested it on the center of his chest, almost unconsciously. “You’ll want to find him, wherever he is, and just….be with him, and the longer you’re apart the more it’ll hurt. It’ll be really miserable, really fast.”

“How much distance are we talking before it starts to suck?” Lance asked.

“Depends,” Keith said. “Shiro and I can be pretty far apart for a decent while, now, because we’ve been bonded for a while and it’s pretty strong. But the first morning after it happened, before I knew what was up? I went to the kitchen to get something to eat and I was absolutely miserable until Shiro got there too.” He looked a little embarrassed to be admitting that, and Lance kind of appreciated it. “Look, um. You should probably just. Talk to Lotor?”

“Yeah, I’d really like to,” Lance agreed. “And thanks, Keith. For looking out for me.”

“Hey,” Keith said, “I may not be a Paladin anymore, but you’re still my team.” He gave Lance a half smile. “That’s what teams do, right? They look out for each other.”

“Yeah, it is,” Lance agreed. “Still, thanks.”

“Good luck,” Keith said. “If you’re lucky, nothing happened. If you’re not...bonds don’t have to be permanent, Lance. If neither of you wants it...it’ll suck, but you can break it.”

“Uh huh,” Lance said. That was the sane move, he supposed.

That didn’t mean it was what he wanted.

Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. He’d been in love with Lotor for a while. Maybe this would end up being what he needed to be okay with taking the plunge.

Maybe it would work out.

 

* * *

 

Deciding where to go wasn’t hard. Lance knew he needed to find Lotor, and the best way to do that was to follow the sense he was pretty sure he had for Lotor’s location. To his surprise, the feeling carried him towards the lounge, and he almost bumped into the exact person he was looking for.

He couldn’t help but notice, immediately, that Lotor looked _miserable._ He seemed to be making an effort to make himself as small as possible, and he couldn’t quite meet Lance’s eyes.

“Ah,” he said, “I was looking for you.”

“Um, good,” Lance said, “‘cause I was looking for you, too. I, uh, think we need to—” he glanced around, briefly, “let’s not do this in the hallway.” He put a hand on Lotor’s arm and gently tugged him through the door, and Lotor went, and Lance was relieved to find the lounge was empty.

“I’m sorry,” Lotor said, as soon as they were inside, “I have—I made a mistake, and—”

Lance felt his heart drop into his shoes. A _mistake._ Obviously Lotor knew what was going on, and he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

Right. Of course. Why would he be.

“You mean this...pairbond thing,” Lance said, and he had to struggle to keep his tone as neutral as possible. “Because, I mean, I wasn’t _expecting_ it, but I guess if we’ve gotta make it work,” he wasn’t even sure where he was going with that.

“We do not have to do anything,” Lotor said, “and in fact we _cannot.”_

“ _Cannot?_ ” Lance repeated, more than a little surprised. “That seems a little extreme.”

“It isn’t,” Lotor said, and Lance watched his posture shift, from making himself small to something much more defensive. “I mean exactly what I said: we cannot do this, and frankly I have no desire to try. It will hardly be worth the cost.” He turned away, and Lance felt something hot and furious rise up in him.

“Why are you running away from this?” Lance snapped. It wasn’t _fair._ Lotor wasn’t even giving him the courtesy of a _chance,_ and in Lance’s opinion that was some objective bullshit. “Am I not up to your fucking standards? Because you probably should’ve thought about that _before_ you screwed me senseless and fucking _claimed me as yours_.”

“That is not—you are absolutely— _no,”_ Lotor said, and frustration was clear in every line of his posture, in the way his hands raked through his hair. “I should think the issue would be _obvious_ , or did whomever explained pairbonds to you skim over the details?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I get the concept,” Lance said. “Lifemate bond, gives you some kind of science-magic-bullshit link so you can feel each other’s feelings and shit, makes it really fucking difficult to be separated, so I _really_ don’t get why you’re being such an ass about this—” But, oh. He’d said it himself, Lance realized—they could _feel each other’s feelings,_ which meant the answer was, theoretically, right in front of him.

He figured that the best way to do this was visualizing their bond as an actual physical string between them, like the red string of fate. So he tugged on it, a little, in his head, reaching for Lotor’s end, and—

There was expected frustration, even a little bit of anger. It was what was under that, when he tugged a little harder, because that couldn’t be _it,_ that surprised him.

“...What are you so afraid of?” Lance asked. It was a struggle not to start guessing aloud, because there were a lot of options and Lance wasn’t usually one to keep his thought process to himself, but something in the way Lotor was looking at him—raw and _vulnerable_ in a way Lance absolutely did not expect from him—kept him from running his mouth.

Lotor was silent for a long moment, and finally he sank down onto the couch and buried his face in his hands.

“When I was a child, my father took me to visit one of the planets he had recently pacified. They had a species of small, harmless domesticated animal, small and fluffy and herbivorous. One of their leaders gave one to me as a gift.” He exhaled. “I was allowed to raise it long enough to become attached, and then my father decided it was making me too soft. So he had me snap its neck. To prove that I wasn’t _weak._ ”

“Okay but—” Lance started, because it wasn’t that he didn’t get it, that was _awful_ and the thought kind of made him sick, but the key difference was that he wasn’t a space hamster. Lotor shook his head, though, and Lance fell silent.

“When I was a little older, I had a training partner. He was...kind, and gentle, and he treated me as something more than just _the heir,_ as more than someone who could get him what he wanted.” Lotor lifted his head out of his hands, staring off to the left somewhere. “We were in love. The witch discovered us.” Lance felt his stomach drop, and he almost wanted to ask Lotor not to continue, because he _really_ didn’t want to hear it, but Lotor didn’t give him the chance. “She used him as one of her earliest test subjects in developing Robeasts. I was forced to fight the...creature she made of him in the arena and kill him to end his suffering. Because the future Emperor must be cold, and heartless, and not weighed down by frivolous attachments.” His eyes closed. “That is what she did to someone I merely cared for. Us being pairbonded…”

He trailed off and fell silent, but he didn’t have to finish. Lance got the picture well enough. It wasn’t exactly a pretty one. A giant target painted on his back, practically a neon sign saying _“hey, Haggar! Do the most fucked up shit you can think of to me!”_

“I…I get it,” Lance said, and he was surprised at the way his voice shook, though maybe he shouldn’t have been. “There’s no way we can do this because it ends with me really dead, probably after a lot of pain and suffering.”

“Essentially.” Lotor said flatly. Lance couldn’t help but notice the way he’d pulled in on himself, again, and he realized that this was the first time he’d ever seen Lotor try to make himself _smaller._ Usually it felt like he was trying to take up as much space in the room as he possibly could, so it felt _wrong_ to see him doing the opposite. His eyes opened, and Lance was struck, too, by how vulnerable he looked. Not the way he’d looked during sex, or after; that had been a softer, welcome vulnerability. This just looked...broken.

“I am sorry, Lance,” he said. “I…should never have…” He reached up and pushed his hair away from his face. “You do not deserve to be tangled up with me.”

“Lotor,” Lance started, and he reached for him, but Lotor flinched away, and Lance dropped his hand. He watched as something shifted, and Lotor’s posture moved from vulnerable to closed off.

“If we stay away from each other,” he said, and he was no longer looking at Lance, expression schooled into a regal blank, “the bond will eventually fade with time. It will be an unpleasant experience, and I am sorry about that, but it will be far better than what might happen otherwise.” Lotor stood up, and started to leave.

“Wait,” Lance said, and he moved to grab Lotor’s arm as he walked past, again, and Lotor stopped. “Is this what you want? If you had a choice, would you…?” Lotor’s expression softened, and he reached up, resting a hand on Lance’s cheek.

“Knowing what I want isn’t going to make this any easier.” He said. “Thinking about what we could have if not for other circumstances is an excellent way to suffer, _majramano.”_

“Moj-huh?” Lance blinked, confused. He could recognize a pet name from the tone, but it was obviously Galra, and the translator skipped over it. Lotor gave him a brief, sad smile.

“Another time,” he said, and he tugged his arm out of Lance’s grip. This time, Lance let him go.


	3. Chapter 3

Usually, Lance enjoyed their meetings with allies. It felt good to see the expanding size of the coalition, to know that they had so many friends and allies who were willing to fight for and with them. The problem was, this one felt kinda tense.

He was willing to give ground and admit it might be in his head. Lotor hadn’t been kidding; being separated  _ was _ unpleasant. It had only been a few days, but he hadn’t seen Lotor at  _ all,  _ and a permanent dull ache seemed to have settled somewhere around his chest. It was a little like an actual, physical symptom of the heartbreak he was feeling, and he could grant that it might be making him antsy and tense.

He was also pretty sure he could feel eyes on him, but that might have been self-consciousness because he knew his mating mark from Lotor was still very visible, even though the other hickies and scratches and bite marks were mostly gone. It was probably totally his imagination that the Puigian leader seemed to be paying a really inordinate amount of attention to him. 

He was able to keep on telling himself that right up until the point the Puigian leader huffed and glared, unmistakably, right at him.

“I thought we agreed that the former Emperor was not invited to this meeting,” he said, and Lance found himself glancing back, like he wouldn’t  _ know _ if Lotor was there. “I would have assumed that would also include his personal pet.”

“Um, what,” Lance said. He knew Lotor’s presence at this specific meeting had been controversial, mostly because the Puigians were still particularly up their own asses about the Galra, but he hadn’t even  _ considered _ that disdain extending to  _ him. _ There was a hell of a lot going on in the implication that he was Lotor’s personal  _ anything, _ anyway, and Lance was mentally fumbling over exactly the right words to start refuting literally every part of that statement, but thank God for Shiro because he clearly had his shit more fully together.

“What exactly are you implying?” He asked, and his tone sounded polite on the surface, but Lance could hear the steel underneath. “Lance is a Paladin of Voltron and a vital member of this coalition, so his presence is absolutely  _ required.” _ It was nice to hear Shiro affirm that he was necessary, but Lance was briefly distracted by a lifting of the weight on his chest, which meant  _ Lotor was close by,  _ and it seemed just like him to try and listen in even if he wasn’t invited, because that was the smart thing to do _ — _

“That he is a Paladin only means that his connection to Lotor is even  _ more _ dangerous,” the Puigian leader argued. “It’s fairly clear that Lotor has chosen to manipulate your Paladin into bonding with him as part of a larger game, likely an effort to play  _ all of you,  _ and I refuse to be party to it.” 

Lance knew his mouth had to be hanging open in shock, and he couldn’t even  _ begin _ to find the words to respond to that accusation. It was somewhere between calling him a gullible moron and calling Lotor some kind of manipulative monster, and frankly he was a little cranky about the insistence that there was something going on between him and Lotor, when Lotor had made it pretty damn clear that there  _ couldn’t  _ be. 

Not that it mattered since if their  _ allies _ knew about the pairbond it didn’t seem all that impossible that it might filter out to the Empire and then the whole “staying away from each other” thing would be pointless, and he’d be screwed.

He felt a stab of  _ hurt  _ that wasn’t his own, jolting him out of his thoughts. He was pretty sure where it came from, and he glanced back, briefly, towards the door, in time to catch a glimpse of Lotor’s retreating back. 

He swallowed and looked back at the Puigian leader, and at Shiro, who looked just as stunned by the accusations as he was. A little past Shiro, Kolivan bristled, a low growl coming from his throat.

“Do you have  _ any idea _ how sacred Galra hold pairbonds?” He demanded. “To suggest that one of us would use a bond for a—a  _ game,  _ a  _ manipulation _ — _ ”  _ He trailed off, furiously. 

“Whatever you think of Lotor, I can promise you that Lance is  _ not _ going to run off and report on this meeting to him,” Shiro said, and it was clearly a struggle for him to keep it together.

“Ah, yes, of course the kept Galra pets would stand up for each other,” the Puigian said, rolling his eyes. “You’ll forgive me for not finding you a reliable source on how trustworthy any of  _ them _ are.”

Wow, holy shit, apparently he was willing to  _ go there.  _ Lance was almost impressed by the sheer  _ cojones  _ saying that to the face of the Black Paladin of Voltron, who had suffered pretty damn heavily at the Empire’s hands, with his pairbond  _ right goddamn there  _ and already looking pretty unhappy with every word coming out of your mouth, had to require.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Shiro snapped, and he was out of his seat, and Lance glanced past him to see Keith’s ears laid back flat against his head and his teeth bared. 

“How fucking  _ dare you, _ ” Keith snarled, shooting upright, hand moving towards the knife at his lower back. Shiro reached over to to rest a hand on his arm, and Keith’s hand dropped away, but he still growled, low and rumbling and clearly threatening, and Lance couldn’t exactly blame him.  _ He  _ kinda wanted to stab the dude.

It wasn’t exactly looking great. Lance was half-certain the meeting was about to come to blows, and as much as it sort of felt like it’d be cathartic, it was the worst possible outcome. They needed to hold the coalition together, and, if he were being honest, he kind of wanted to go after Lotor and make sure he was okay more than he wanted to put a fist through the Puigian leader’s smug face. 

“I’ll go,” He said, standing up. He even put his hands up in a form of surrender. All of a sudden, all eyes were on him.

“Lance?” Shiro asked, and his voice was much gentler than it had been.

“Hey, I’m the problem, right?” Lance spread his hands and shrugged. “I’ll leave, you all can figure out your plans, and when it’s time for me to do things, I’ll just follow Shiro’s lead and it’ll be fine. Y’know, assuming you’re okay with him still leading Voltron, and everything—oh, wait, you don’t  _ actually _ get input on that, so.” He imbued his tone with maximum sarcasm, because no, it wouldn’t be fine, but on the other hand, he was also pretty sure that stupid objections aside,  _ one  _ of the other Paladins—or Keith, or Kolivan, who also still looked pretty ready to throw down—would tell him what was up.

“I’m glad you’re willing to be reasonable,” the Puigian leader said, very tightly. Lance gave him a very, very sardonic smile.

“Yeah, well, being Lotor’s  _ personal pet _ takes up a lot of time anyway, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have me back.” Almost true, even, since he  _ did _ intend to go looking for his pairbond. He turned on his heel and stormed out, and then started jogging down the hallway, hoping he could follow the lessening ache in his chest to find Lotor. 

He found him on the observation deck, staring out the window.

“I thought you were at the meeting,” Lotor said, without turning around. 

“Yeah, well, it was boring,” Lance said, shrugging. “And also the Puigian leader kinda didn’t want me there.”

“Is that what that was about,” Lotor’s voice was still flat, but Lance barely had to reach out over their bond to feel the roiling of emotions under the surface. Most prominent was still  _ hurt _ ; as best as he could guess Lotor had really taken what was said to heart, but Lance couldn’t quite figure out  _ why. _

“Yeah,” he said. “He called me your  _ personal pet,  _ which, like, theoretically doesn’t sound all that terrible, but, you know, not true.” Lotor actually cracked something approaching a smile at that, and Lance wanted to pat himself on his back.

“You  _ would _ look good properly collared,” Lotor said almost airily, looking back at him with an evaluating gaze, and Lance wanted to laugh it off but, uh, on actual thought, the prospect  _ was _ kind of hot. “But as you said, not true.” He turned back to the window, and spent a long moment staring out it contemplatively. 

“Look, about what he said—” Lance started, and Lotor didn’t quite turn, but his eyes cut back to Lance. “How much did you hear?” It seemed best to know exactly what kind of damage control he was going to be doing.

“Enough to know what our Puigian allies think of me,” Lotor said. He looked back out the window. “I had a feeling he wouldn’t easily forgive me for the second conquest of his planet, and after the tactics I chose for it, I can’t pretend his assumptions are unfair. I have a demonstrated capacity to manipulate. It would...not be entirely out of line, not knowing the finer significance of pairbonds, to think I might—”

“Lotor,” Lance said, because he was pretty sure now he understood what the problem was, “I don’t think that.”

“As I said,” Lotor’s voice was even, but his hurt was like a physical thing settled in Lance’s chest, wrapped around his heart, “I wouldn’t. Blame you. If you did.”

“Yeah, but I know you didn’t do that,” Lance said firmly. “I mean, if you wanted to use this pairbond thing to play me and the rest of the Paladins, you’d be doing a pretty shit job of it, since you keep insisting we can’t be a thing.”

“I would be, at that,” Lotor acknowledged. He still hadn’t actually turned to look at Lance. “And I wasn’t intending to eavesdrop. I am well aware the Puigians are not the only allies of Voltron’s who are unhappy with my presence, and I have no actual desire to inflame tensions, but I felt your distress, and…I wanted to…I thought there might be something I could do.”

“You were coming to see if I was okay?” Lance asked, a little surprised.

“Yes,” Lotor said. “Why should that be so odd? Your distress is mine, for as long as we remain connected.” 

“I...yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Lance acknowledged. It wasn’t all that different from the reason he was  _ here,  _ making sure Lotor was okay. It just felt weird. He was used to being the one nobody worried about, because he did his best to not  _ need  _ to be worried about. Lotor’s expression softened, and he turned fully towards Lance, walking over and gently resting his hands on either side of Lance’s face, and then dropping his head so their foreheads were resting together.

“I  _ do _ care about you, Lance, and I would prefer you to be happy. Experiencing your distress is…less than pleasant,” he said. Lance had to admit that it was pretty logical. Of course Lotor wanted him to be okay, Lotor had to deal with all Lance’s feelings, and who wanted somebody else’s negative emotions all up in their mental shit? 

More pressingly, though, Lotor’s face was inches from his, and Lance could still feel all the lingering ache Lotor was feeling from everything that had been said, and if he were going to be entirely emotionally honest, he was still pretty fucked up about it himself. Kissing Lotor probably wasn’t a  _ solution,  _ or even a  _ good idea _ in the long run, because he really should just be telling himself to let this go, but it was a really good idea in the short term and the long term consequences could figure themselves out. 

He leaned in the rest of the way and pressed his lips to Lotor’s, and Lotor let out a tiny, almost desperate noise as he moved into the kiss. Lance let his hands wander down Lotor’s sides, tracing over his hips and moving to squeeze his ass, because with the opportunity presented he was going to get a handful. He could feel a spike of lust over the bond, and he hadn’t exactly  _ intended  _ to work Lotor up, but he wasn’t going to  _ complain.  _

“You seem really tense,” Lance murmured against Lotor’s lips, hands already working to undo the clasps on the bottom half of Lotor’s armor. “Let me help you relax.” 

“ _ Lance,” _ Lotor said his name like some kind of prayer, and frankly Lance would have killed to hear his name said that way if that was what would make Lotor happy. “Yes, please.” It wasn’t a plea, not the way Lotor has begged him for more during his heat; the  _ please _ felt perfunctory, like Lotor absolutely expected that Lance would comply and give him what he wanted. That was….Lance liked that a  _ lot. _

He worked Lotor’s armor off—and it briefly occurred to him that the only time he’d seen Lotor dressed down was during his heat, which was a somewhat depressing thought—and then he knelt, and took a moment to consider. He could certainly blow Lotor, and he’d liked doing that, but there was also something else he very much wanted to do. 

“Turn around?” Lance asked, and Lotor briefly quirked an eyebrow down at him, but he did so, bracing against the wall. Lance laid his hands on Lotor’s thighs, and leaned in, drawing his tongue over Lotor’s folds, making him whine. 

He had less practice with this particular form of oral, but he knew, basically, what he was doing. It was a little different with Lotor because he didn’t have a clit, but that wasn’t all  _ that _ much of an obstacle. As soon as his tongue slipped past Lotor’s folds and dipped into his cunt, he got a taste of Lotor’s arousal and it sent a thrill through him; it tasted sweet, like his cum, and Lance absolutely wanted more. 

He moved a hand to wrap it around Lotor’s cock, stroking slowly, and he could feel Lotor’s thighs trembling as he eagerly fucked his tongue into Lotor’s hole, enjoying how even out of his heat Lotor was gloriously reactive. His moans were muffled—Lance suspected he had a hand over his mouth, but he wasn’t going to stop what he was doing to see—and that just reminded Lance that they were technically in public, that anyone could find them, and...fuck, that  _ did things  _ to him. He didn’t  _ really  _ want to be caught, he wasn’t sure he could face whoever walked in on them again, but  the  _ possibility  _ sent a thrill through him. 

He sped up his strokes, and Lotor's hips jerked to meet his hand. He could feel Lotor turning to putty under his fingers, and Lance couldn't help but be pretty self-satisfied. Even without freaky alien heat making Lotor absolutely desperate, Lance was damned good at pleasing him. And even without Lotor being incredibly reactive, Lance still would have known, because he could feel Lotor's pleasure through the bond.

"Fuck... _ Lance _ ," Lotor whined needily, and Lance fucked his tongue into Lotor with more enthusiasm, bringing his other hand around from Lotor's hip to slide two fingers into him. Lotor jolted, and Lance felt his cunt squeeze down as a muffled cry passed his lips, and he could feel the echoes of Lotor's peak of pleasure, but he could also feel that Lotor wasn't quite satisfied yet. "Lance, fuck,  _ fuck me, _ " Lotor gasped, rolling his hips back. Lance pulled away and stood up, grinning even though he knew Lotor couldn't see it.

"How am I supposed to say no to that?" He asked, and he knew he absolutely had to sound amused. He was, in a way; it felt pretty damn good to know that he could turn  _ Lotor _ into putty with nothing but his hand and his tongue. Standing up, he could see the hand that must have been covering Lotor's mouth, and he could see little teethmarks on it, meaning Lotor had bit down on his own hand to keep himself quiet. "Aw, babe," Lance said, "you don't have to do that. I like hearing you."

"You might," Lotor said, and Lance could see a flush on his cheeks, "but I imagine the rest of the ship would prefer not to."

"Maybe, but they're missing out," Lance purred, and he watched the flush on Lotor's cheeks darken. He undid his pants, quickly, pushing them down around his knees rather than all the way off, and then reached down to grip Lotor's hips and slid into him. Lotor moaned, and brought his hand back over his mouth, and for a moment Lance very seriously considered pulling it away, but that seemed a little unfair. Being caught  _ would _ kind of be a mood killer. 

He buried his face against Lotor's shoulder as he started to fuck into him, reaching around again to stroke his cock. They would have to be quick, he knew that, but it didn't stop him from wanting to drag things out, to have Lotor slow and passionately. He hadn't really had a chance while Lotor was in heat; both of them had been far too desperate for it, then. Maybe another time, if there ever  _ was _ another time; Lance wanted to hope, because so far Lotor didn't seem all that serious about the whole "staying away from each other" thing.

Now, though, there were way too many risks, so he just pounded into Lotor as hard and fast as he could. He started pressing kisses to the skin of Lotor's back and shoulders, and took a moment to leave a lingering one on the still-visible mating mark, and as soon as his lips brushed against it Lotor let out a desperate cry. Lance felt him tighten, and then he was coming, splattering against the wall in front of him. The overwhelming feeling of Lotor's orgasm through the bond pulled Lance over with him, and he bit down thoughtlessly on the mark to muffle his scream of pleasure. The crashing wave of pleasure he felt through the bond at that was almost enough to make him come again, but without Lotor's heat to reduce his refractory period, Lance just couldn't manage it twice in such a short time.

Lotor let out a tiny little whine as Lance slid out of him, and by the time Lance finished tugging off his undershirt and using it to clean up the splash of cum on the wall, Lotor was sitting down, panting faintly. He let Lance take a moment to make sure the wall was clean, and then reached out, tugging Lance down and against his chest. Lance went willingly, snuggling up to press his face into Lotor’s neck and enjoy the comfortable, contented feeling of being curled up against his pairbond.

“Fuck,” Lance exhaled against Lotor’s neck. Lotor made a noise that sounded like agreement. “That was…. _ fuck.” _

“Sex with someone you’re bonded with can be….very intense,” Lotor said, and then he let out an exhale. “And it isn’t….uncommon for bonded pairs that have been separated to want to connect as intensely as possible when they’re reunited. For those that experience sexual attraction, that often means sex.” Lance glanced up from his position carefully snuggled against Lotor’s chest, surprised by the sudden wash of guilt he felt through the bond. “I...apologize. For all I made it clear that it was important to stay away, I still…” Lotor disentangled himself from Lance, and went to retrieve his discarded clothes. “It will not happen again.” 

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Lance stood up, and he hoped Lotor could feel his hurt through their bond, because maybe it would disabuse him of this stupid idea that he needed to be sorry for  _ any  _ of this, “you don’t need to—”

Lotor refused to turn to look at him, adjusting the last layer of his armor, and there it was, that awful tempest of guilt for reasons Lance couldn’t even begin to understand, and an ache underneath it that he couldn’t identify.

“Yes, I do,” Lotor said, and then he slipped past Lance and out the door, and by the time Lance moved to catch up with him, he was gone.

 

* * *

Lotor’s breath came in short, sharp huffs. He ached all over, which in his frank opinion might well have been an improvement. With exhaustion and the ache of injuries from the gladiator bots spread all over, it was impossible to dwell on the pain in his chest. He had spent an unfortunate amount of time doing that, and he knew that it was frankly idiotic.

“Level fifteen,” he said, sharply, wiping his forehead. Slowly increasing the difficulty kept him on his toes, and the last few rounds had required plenty of focus. It was ideal, really, staking his claim on the training room and making use of the castle’s remarkably advanced systems. He had to focus on the fight, and that left little room to think about anything, or any _ one,  _ else. 

The problem was the time in between bouts, when his mind could and  _ did  _ wander. He caught himself brushing up against his bond with Lance just to make sure that he was alright, and not feeling any ill effects either from Lotor’s aggressive training regimen or from their tryst earlier in the day. As best as he could tell, Lance seemed content, even happy, though every once in a while he felt a twinge of concern and forced himself to focus on something  _ other _ than his own pain and exhaustion. It wouldn’t do to have Lance coming to check on him, when the idea was to get back on track with the  _ staying away from him  _ plan.

No matter how much Lotor wanted to see him again.

He launched himself into the next level, a chaotic fight with six of the gladiators and perhaps another ten of the little laser-shooting bots, exactly the sort of challenge he could absolutely lose himself in. It was exhausting and mind-numbing and everything he needed it to be.

He barely registered the door opening, but he  _ did _ register turning to meet a strike from behind that by all rights should have impacted and finding the Paladin-turned-Blade behind him, covering his back and sending the gladiator flying with a twist of his sword and a solid kick. He didn’t have time to offer thanks or ask questions, not with the simulation still running, but he could give a brief nod of acknowledgement before launching back into the fight.

Between the two of them they made quick work of the simulation, and Lotor had to admit, he was fairly impressed with Keith's general skill level. He was quick on his feet and his abilities were nothing to scoff at; clearly whatever training he had received more than did his Galra heritage proud.

When the last bot disintegrated into light under Lotor's sword, he finally turned to his impromptu training partner.

"Thank you," he said, without preamble or hesitation. No reason to be foolish about it; Keith's backup had saved him from what might have been a humiliating loss. "I may have somewhat overestimated what I could handle."

"Yeah, I've...done that before." Keith looked a little sheepish. From everything he'd seen of him, Lotor had no trouble believing that; he seemed the type to push himself as hard as possible in pursuit of his goals.

That was something Lotor could more than understand.

"If you'd like the simulation to yourself," Lotor said, because it seemed prudent to offer, "I will gladly step out."

"No, that's fine," Keith said, and he gave Lotor a brief look up and down, and Lotor didn't realize he was straightening and forcing himself to look less exhausted until he had already done it, "but you look like you could use a break anyway."

"Perhaps," Lotor said, automatically hedging.  _ Show no weakness, never let them see you as less. _

"You don't need to do that, you know," Keith said, "get all defensive. I'm not trying to pick you apart, you just look like you've spent the last couple hours getting your ass kicked." Lotor inhaled between his teeth and forced himself not to snap. Taking a verbal bite out of Keith was not, at the moment, going to get him anywhere.

"Forgive me," he said, and he left it at that. Keith did not need to hear that he was used to concern being a mask for something else. He had gotten the impression, from the reactions of the other Paladins, that things he considered normal from his childhood were less so on Earth, and it seemed to result in quite a lot of concerned looks and general unnecessary worry about his emotional or physical state. "What  _ did  _ bring you here, then?"

"Lance," Keith said. "He's worried about you." Ah, good. Exactly what Lotor had hoped to prevent.

"Let him know he has nothing to be concerned about," he said, stiffly. It was true, there  _ was  _ nothing to be concerned over. He was at worst a little sore and worn down from a long training session; it had been a long time since he had put himself through a session like this, but that meant only that he was out of practice. Once upon a time, this would have been a  _ slow  _ day's work.

"I dunno," Keith crossed his arms, and Lotor responded with a challenging raised eyebrow, "I feel like I'd be lying to him. Especially since whatever you're doing to yourself, he's feeling it." Lotor shoved away the wash of guilt that crawled up at that, and forced himself to keep his expression as blank as possible. "Are you even a little worried about what this is doing to him? Any of this? Because it's not like I don't get it, I used to do the same thing when I needed to think, but ever since me and Shiro..." He shook his head. "I'm not gonna let him get hurt because I need to blow off some steam, so what about  _ you? _ What are  _ you  _ doing?"

"I do not appreciate the implication you are making," Lotor said. How  _ dare  _ he. How dare he imply that he know  _ anything  _ about how Lotor felt, or what he was or wasn't concerned by.

"What else am I supposed to think?" Keith asked. "What else are any of us supposed to think? When I went back to the Blade, after Shiro and I pairbonded, before I really knew what had happened—it hurt so much I could barely breathe, and all I wanted was to be back with him. How do you  _ willingly  _ push someone away when that's what's waiting for both of you, unless you don’t give a shit?"

"You have  _ no idea  _ what you are talking about," Lotor said, and his flat affect finally cracked, replaced by spitting fury. "You have not even the vaguest  _ concept— _ of  _ course  _ I love Lance." It barely occurred to him that he might be revealing more than he wished to. More than he had even said, directly, to Lance himself. "I've hardly been subtle about that. What I feel does not  _ matter.  _ Not the least because he clearly does not feel the same way, but also because I do not intend to move him any higher on the Empire's kill list than he already is."

"Then why do this? Why push yourself this hard when you know it's gonna hurt him too?" Keith shot back. "You can have a million and a half noble reasons for not wanting to be bonded with him, that doesn't let you off the hook for whatever the hell  _ this _ is."

"What else am I to do?" Lotor asked. "Sit and pine? At least this is something  _ useful _ ."

" _ Useful?"  _ Keith sputtered. "Joining the Blade and getting out onto the battlefield is  _ useful.  _ This is...this is self-destructive idiocy, and you know it, and you’re hurting somebody else doing it. But I guess he’s not that important to you, no matter how much you say you care about him."

"You presume quite a lot," Lotor said, sharply. "I am surprised no one has yet taught you when to keep your mouth shut." He brought his blade around, and it clashed hard with Keith's luxite sword. It was stupid and reckless, things Lotor usually wasn't, and he hated to let his emotions so obviously get away from him. He hated more, though, letting someone else tell him, once again, what  _ his  _ feelings were.

At least it was successful; the moment they were engaged blade to blade, Keith was silent, focused on the fight and not on picking at Lotor in every way he possibly could, barrelling past carefully constructed walls just by being that thrice-damned  _ blunt. _

It didn't take him long to notice that Keith was fighting entirely defensively. Were Lotor less furious, he would have appreciated that for what it likely was, and that it had nothing to do with him, but running as hot as he was, it felt far more like an insulting assumption that Keith didn't need to go all out against him, that he was barely worth treating as more than an angry child.

Fine. If he wasn't going to take the opportunity to fight, Lotor would take it for him. A quick maneuver of his sword up and under Keith's sent the blade flying out of his hands, and after that it was a quick succession of footwork—a knee to his lower abdomen to drive the air out of his lungs and take him off balance, and a sweep of his feet to send him down. Lotor stood over him, blade pointed at his throat, and that was about when the door of the training room flew open.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Lotor didn't have to turn to know who it was; he was familiar enough with the Black Paladin's voice. Of course he was here; he'd likely felt the torrent of his pairbond's emotions, and then the hits when Lotor attacked.

"We were just finishing," Lotor said, drawing himself back to carefully practiced cold decorum. He shoved his blade into its sheath and strode out, cursing himself for his loss of control the entire way. Stupid, stupid, stupid; had he pushed too much further and done serious damage to the Black Paladin's pairbond, it would have cost him Voltron's trust.  _ Lance's  _ trust, what little of it Lotor presumed to have. Years spent learning to keep his emotions under control, and all it took was just the right kind of poking and prodding and he was tipped over into violent rage. It was utterly pathetic. And far too like his father for his comfort.

But perhaps Keith had a point. There  _ was  _ something more productive he could do, somewhere more productive he could be.

The Blade of Marmora.

Kolivan was still on the castleship. Lotor resolved to speak to him.

 

* * *

Keith felt a twinge of embarrassment when Shiro knelt next to him to help him sit up.

"Are you alright?" Shiro asked, worriedly. "What  _ was  _ that?"

"I'm fine," Keith said, "just a little winded." Lotor hit  _ hard;  _ he'd known that in an abstract sense, anyone as used to taking on opponents much bigger than him as Lotor was could hardly afford to hold back; but knowing it as an abstract fact and actually experiencing that kind of ferocity firsthand were two very different things. "My fault, kinda." Shiro looked skeptical. "I goaded him into it," Keith said. "On purpose," as a point of clarity, lest Shiro think otherwise. "Knew exactly what I was doing and everything."

"And I'm sure you have a very good reason for doing something like that," Shiro said, frowning, as he helped Keith to his feet. Keith leaned into him unabashedly; it was nice, to be able to do that.

"Lance sent me down to check on him, and I kinda figured..." Keith waved a hand. "I know how much it sucked to be separated from you, after we bonded. I couldn't figure why he'd do that to himself. So I guess I kinda wanted to see what the hell was up, there."

"And the best way to do that was by provoking him," Shiro said, dryly. "Keith, I understand you're trying to look out for Lance..."

"It worked!" Keith said defensively, cutting Shiro off before he could finish with whatever gentle admonition was undoubtedly coming.. "I mean, after what that asshole said at the meeting earlier, I kinda got to thinking, what if he  _ is  _ screwing with Lance? Lotor's whole  _ thing  _ was playing people, and I mean, this is a pretty roundabout way to do it, but what if he was doing some kind of push-pull thing? I don't know," Keith frowned. He watched Shiro's expression darken, presumably because he was considering exactly the thing that Keith had just outlined. It would be brilliant, too, a long game, but after the way Lotor reacted to the suggestion he didn't care— 

Galra were an emotionally honest people, for the most part. Keith had seen that in himself long before he'd known where it came from, and he'd seen it in other Galra too.

"So?" Shiro asked. "I assume you got your answer."

"He's not," Keith said. "Whatever else he's doing, it's not a game." Were Keith being honest, he wasn't sure if that was better or worse. Whatever Lotor  _ was  _ doing, it wasn't some calculated long-game manipulation. The way he'd spat out that of  _ course  _ had been too raw for that, too sharp-edged. "So I guess the rest of it is kind of up to them."

"Yes, it is," Shiro said firmly. "Now, let me make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine, Shiro, really," Keith said. "You know I've taken harder hits."

"Let me. Please." Shiro said, and Keith exhaled.

"Fine," he said. It wasn't as if he could deny Shiro anything, not with concern washing over him through their bond. He let Shiro guide him out of the training room, trying not to dwell too much on what had happened. It didn’t matter. Lotor and Lance’s weird romantic issues  _ weren’t actually his problem. _

Probably.


	4. Chapter 4

“You’re not serious,” Shiro said, blinking slowly.

“I’m afraid I very much am,” Lotor replied, voice flat. “I don’t intend to continue sitting around the castleship forever, and joining the Blade of Marmora will give me a way to play an active role in removing my father from the throne. I have spent a long time not being able to do so. It is my turn to step up.”

“Aren’t you pretty high up on the Empire’s hit list?” Hunk asked, sounding concerned.

“Yes,” Lotor acknowledged, “but the Blade moves in shadows and anonymously. I certainly won’t be doing any infiltrations, I’m too recognizable, but I _am_ useful for other things.”

“Lotor will be an asset to the Blades,” Kolivan said. “He is an extremely competent fighter, and he knows the Empire far better than any other agent we have ever had.” Keith looked contemplative for a moment, and then looked up at Lotor and gave a brief nod.

“I’d be proud to fight with you,” he said. Lotor looked briefly startled, but then he relaxed, and Lance definitely felt _something_ about that but he was having a lot of trouble processing feelings because he was really, _really_ stuck on the whole “Lotor was serious enough about them Not Being Able to Be Together thing that he was joining the Blade, which could very well put him halfway across the universe.”

Yeah, Lance had a lot more feelings about _that_ than about anything else, for sure.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Pidge said, and that was a surprise. Lance turned to look over at her. “If anybody can keep an eye on His Highness, it’s Kolivan.” Lotor wrinkled his nose, and Lance could feel his distaste over the use of the title, and Lance himself was pretty suspicious that Pidge was keeping her actual motives for supporting Lotor’s decision to herself, but whatever. It didn’t matter. At least someone else was on board.

“Princess?” Hunk prompted, like he was very desperate for someone else to be on his side.

“I think it’s incredibly risky,” Allura said, and she was frowning.

“I’m well aware,” Lotor said, “but I believe the risk to be worth it.”

“Lance,” Shiro said, and Lance forced himself to look up once everyone’s eyes were on him, “you’ve been quiet.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance said, “it’s not really our choice, is it? Any more than it was our choice when Keith wanted to join the Blade?” He watched Keith’s ears droop, which seemed strange, since he hadn’t meant it in any sort of cruel way—just, it really didn’t seem like any of them should be deciding _for_ Lotor.

Besides that, he wasn’t sure how he felt about the whole thing at all, or if it was even his place to have feelings about it. Sure, he was Lotor’s pairbond, but Lotor had made it clear that they needed to _not_ be bonded, and frankly Lance was pretty sure this was him trying to make that a lot easier. So, yeah, fine, okay. Let the love of his life swan off into the sunset to fight tyranny. That was fine.

“Really? I mean, dude…” Hunk started, and Lance frowned.

“Yeah, really,” Lance said, crossing his arms. “I think it’s pretty awesome, actually.”

“Thank you, Lance,” Lotor said, and he was quieter and more sincere-sounding than Lance had expected. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just gave Lotor a quick smile. It might have been his imagination, but he swore that Lotor looked more relaxed after that. “I am entirely sincere in my desire to join the Blade of Marmora. I believe it is the best possible way that I can further the cause of ending my father’s tyranny over the universe once and for all.”

“Lance, you will be coming to the base with us,” Kolivan said. Lance sat up, frowning.

“What? Why?” He asked. “Do we need Red to fly us in?”

“No,” Kolivan said, very firmly, and Keith winced and Shiro looked vaguely guilty, which Lance supposed sort of made sense, since….yeah, Red _had_ attacked the base during Keith’s Trials. So, okay. Not that. “As Lotor’s pairbond, it is important that you are at his Trials. Otherwise, you may find the experience….distressing.” Lotor frowned, and Lance didn’t bother hiding his own displeasure.

“That’s not ominous at all,” he said. “Sure, okay. Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

“So this is the headquarters of the Blade of Marmora,” Lotor said. It was more than he had expected, and he found himself turning to see as much as he could as Kolivan led them deeper into the base, trying not to look too much like a delighted child.

“It is,” Kolivan said. Lotor wasn’t sure if he was imagining the note of satisfaction in Kolivan’s voice or not.

“Holy shit Keith undersold this place,” Lance said, and he was clearly making no effort to hide _his_ delight, pausing every once in a while to spin around and take the place in.

It was utterly charming, and Lotor had to hide a smile behind his hands, lest he look _too_ painfully, blatantly in love.

They stopped at what Lotor assumed was something akin to the armories they had for the arena, where fighters could kit up as they pleased before bouts, and Kolivan turned to face them.

“Lotor,” he said, and he tapped one of the compartments that lined the walls with his fist, “inside you will find what you need for the Trials. Change into the suit inside, and take the knife.”

Lotor gave a brief nod, and Kolivan stepped away, far enough that he was out of sight. Lance turned around and put a hand over his eyes, and Lotor let out a brief amused huff.

“I appreciate the consideration for my privacy,” he said dryly, as he opened the compartment and casually stripped out of his armor.

“Only polite,” Lance said, but there was amusement in his voice. Lotor reached in and pulled out the suit, and it slid on easily, conforming to his figure immediately.

“Hm,” he flexed his fingers in the gloves, and then he reached for the knife, and for a moment his heart stopped.

“Kolivan?” He asked, cradling it close to his chest, “is this...what it appears to be?”

“What does it appear to be?” Kolivan asked, stepping back over.

“A luxite dagger,” Lotor said, and then, for Lance’s benefit—“an incredibly rare material, mined on Daibazaal, the Galra homeworld, and only there. After Daibazaal’s destruction ten thousand years ago, it is….incredibly rare, and it has many notably wondrous properties.”

“It is, then, exactly what it looks like,” Kolivan said. “Each member of the Blade of Marmora has a blade like that.” He reached behind him and pulled out his sword, and Lotor couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized it sooner. He turned the luxite knife over in his hands, reverent awe on his face.

“I never thought to _hold_ luxite, much less wield it,” he confessed quietly, and he glanced back to see the barest hints of something like amusement on Kolivan’s face—or, he supposed, as close as the old Blade ever got.

“Should you overcome the Trials and prove worthy, you will awaken the blade and be welcomed into the order,” Kolivan said. “Knowledge or death, Lotor.”

“I understand.” Lotor said, and he straightened, meeting Kolivan’s eyes. “I’m ready to begin.”

 

* * *

 

Lance stood next to Kolivan in the observation area, eyes on Lotor. He wanted to pretend it was all concern, but frankly, that would be a lie. Lotor made the Blade initiate suit look _good,_ and watching him idly flip the Marmora dagger in one hand while he waited for the trial to begin, looking for all the world like he was completely confident he’d walk through this like it was nothing, did things to Lance’s heart. Really, really good things.

“So, like. What’s the first Trial?” Lance asked. “I mean, I’m not doing it, so you can tell me, right?”

“You will see shortly,” Kolivan said.

“I guess,” Lance frowned, and then he heard the door open, and a young-looking Blade ducked in. He had to be at least half-Galra, and his blue-violet skintone supported that, but he looked more lizardlike than even most of the Galra Lance had seen. There were finlike appendages on the sides of his head that Lance supposed must be ears, he had a single almost mohawk-like strip of white hair down the center of his head that he’d clearly let grow out into what rather approximated a side cut, and a spiked tail swished behind him.

“Regris,” Kolivan said, and Lance didn’t even realize he’d let out a little “ _oh!”_ This was the Blade Keith had talked about, the one he’d apparently almost gotten himself killed saving. Twice. “Is there something you need?”

“Actually,” Regris said, “I was hoping I’d have the opportunity to watch the new initiate’s Trial. Also I wanted to meet the Paladin, I was sort of hoping it was that Shiroo _ohmygods.”_ He seemed to notice Lance, finally, and Lance watched his cheeks go slightly reddish. “You’re loverboy Lance. You did that….ribbon...thing. That was incredible.”

“Uh,” Lance said, “yeah, that’s me. I can’t believe you remember that,” he laughed, a little. Man, The Voltron Show had been short-lived, but apparently it had a hell of an impact.

“I’ve watched that a completely normal and non-creepy amount,” Regris said, and Lance had to force himself not to laugh harder, because that was maybe a little rude.

“Sorry, dude,” he said, and he tapped the spot on his neck where his mating mark from Lotor was, even if it was covered by his Paladin gear, “I’m actually here because Lotor’s my pairbond, so, uh. Taken.”

“Damn it,” Regris sighed, in the way that people only did when they were being theatrical and not actually disappointed, and then he turned to Kolivan and did what had to be the lizard equivalent of sad puppy eyes. “So, can I stay?”

“You may,” Kolivan said, though it sounded preemptively tired, “as long as you do not disturb the Trials.”

“Excellent,” Regris said, and he moved in, so he could lean forward and watch through the window. “Ooh, it’s starting!” That drew Lance’s attention back to the floor below. He leaned forward to watch as a pillar rose up and one of the members of the Blade appeared, and then leapt at Lotor.

It was genuinely incredible to watch Lotor fight. Lance hadn’t actually had a chance to see it before, and it was…incredible. Lotor was quick and graceful and light on his feet, but the Blade fighting him was just as good, and working with a full-sized sword rather than a dagger. Even with the reach advantage, Lotor was keeping up, in a way that Lance could barely imagine doing himself.

“Holy shit,” Lance said quietly, eyes wide.

“Your pairbond is incredibly skilled,” Kolivan said, almost idly. “But,” and as he said it, the Blade dodged one of Lotor’s attacks and moved in, pressing their sword up against his neck, and Lance could feel a brief rush of panic through the bond, “my Blades are better.”

“I guess,” Lance said, though he sounded a little dubious. He watched the Blade lower their sword and step out of Lotor’s way.

“You are not meant to go through that door,” they said, gesturing to a door at the other end of the room. Lance wasn’t close enough to see one way or the other, but the wave of light derision he felt through the bond felt like it had to be accompanied by an eyeroll.

“As you say,” Lotor said dryly, and then he strode forward and through the door. The view shifted…to a room identical to the first one.

“What,” Lance said.

“You will see,” Kolivan replied, like that was any sort of answer. Lance frowned over at Kolivan, not even bothering to hide how displeased he was. He _knew_ Kolivan was capable of not being a cryptic asshole, even in his role as leader of the Blade of Marmora, but apparently that didn’t mean jackshit during the Trials.

“Great,” Lance muttered, and he leaned forward in his seat. “I’ll _see._ Awesome.”

 

* * *

 

Lotor frowned, turning in a brief circle and examining the room. Yes, definitely identical to the first one, except this time, two holes opened in the floor, and it was two Blades that rose out of the ground.

Fine. He was more than used to the odds being against him. Two on one wasn't even that stacked, all things considered. He shifted into a defensive position and watched as they approached, parrying the first strike from one and twisting out of the way of the other. He could feel adrenaline rising, and forced himself not to get lost in the rush; it was a good way to get distracted and die.

 _Knowledge or death_ might be Kolivan's credo, and that of the Blades, and it was nice.

Lotor preferred the more traditional version.

_Victory or death._

Not because he was particularly invested in victory, but because his life was, as always, a binary choice; fight or die. This was no different than any other time he had been confronted with danger and risen to the occasion.

Fending off two opponents armed with proper swords when all he had was a tiny knife was....difficult. His lack of a proper weapon, he had to admit, somewhat swung the fight in their favor. More than somewhat, really; he could be as trained as he liked and he would have trouble overcoming this particular handicap. His heart raced, and he ducked and dodged and parried as best as he could, but there was only so much he could do. Dodging one often led into a strike from the other, because the Blades were coordinated. Trained to fight as a unit.

He moved to dodge one sword and twisted into another, and it was pure luck that the blade slashed open his side rather than going straight through his gut as he suspected was intended. The wound bled sluggishly, but there was no time to worry about it, and he had pushed past and fought through worse, a dozen times over. He moved as quickly as he could to get back into a defensive stance, but it wasn't quick enough. He felt the cold point of a sword against his back, and another pointed at his throat, and his heart skipped. Dead. Two times over.

That was an unpleasant reality to be faced with.

Both swords were lowered, but Lotor refused to allow himself to relax. There was nothing to say this _wasn't_ a trick, that the first one backing off after he was pinned wasn't meant to lull him into a false sense of complacency. He didn't lower his own knife until both of his opponents stepped away from him. One of them pointed his blade at the door in the next wall, and there were those utterly infuriating words again.

“You are not meant to go through that door,” the Blade said, and Lotor huffed.

“Try and stop me,” he said under his breath, and he stormed forward, and once again, the door led him to the same room, and that made Lotor straighten and consider. “You are not meant to go through that door,” he murmured under his breath.

_Not meant to go through that door._

_Not meant to go through_ **_that_ ** _door._

“Oh,” he said, and he was sure his face lit up with the revelation, as the next group of Blades began to emerge from the floor. He raced forward, dodging and twisting around sword strikes, and then he knelt and drove his knife into the opening in the floor just before it closed and wedged it back open, dropping through the opening below.

When he landed on the ground, the room was completely different—not the clean aesthetic of the Blade’s headquarters, but a darker, gloomier one, firelight and stonework, like some of the catacombs he had explored on planets he was studying for their archaeological value.

“That was a clever little riddle, Kolivan,” he said, because he knew the old Blade had to be listening somewhere, “but not clever enough. Now, what’s next?”

 

* * *

 

"Hm," Kolivan said, "I must admit, I am impressed. That was much quicker than most."

Lance wanted to say something about how of _course_ Lotor was impressively quick on the uptake, but he couldn't quite make himself crow his pairbond's praises when he could feel the ache in his side from the blow Lotor had taken. He reached down and pressed his hand there, because he needed a reminder that _he_ wasn't bleeding, and his eyes flicked to the area below, where he could see Lotor pausing to press a hand to the injury on his side, too. Beyond that, Lance could feel the ache of his muscles, and he suspected that was strain from Lotor defending himself against one, then two, then four people, and it was clearly something Lotor refused to acknowledge, if the way he was soldering forward through the strange hallway was any indication.

Lance watched as Lotor rounded a corner and triggered something that sent him flying backwards into a wall, and he yelped at the residual pain he could feel, all up and down his back.

“Holy _shit,”_ Lance said, very quietly, “how the hell did Shiro do this? I know they weren’t bonded yet, but how’d he stay _calm?”_

He didn’t realize that he was loud enough to be audible until he heard a very strange noise come from Kolivan, and he turned to see him with a fist pressed to his lips.

“Say that again?” He asked, and his tone was so flatly serious that Lance wasn’t sure how to take it.

“I mean, I was just wondering—Shiro and Keith weren’t bonded yet, so he couldn’t _literally_ feel Keith’s pain, but he’s always been in love with him, y’know, and I….wish I could ask him how he kept it together.”

Lance only realized that the strange, strangled noises he’d heard were _laughter_ when Kolivan stopped trying to suppress them and doubled over the console in front of him, shoulders shaking and fist thumping against the console.

Lance honestly hadn’t known Kolivan _could_ laugh. Regris looked equally alarmed by this turn of events, blinking at Kolivan like he wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was real or not.

“Leader…?” Regris began. “Are you….alright?”

“Yes, I.” Kolivan began, and then he dissolved into another fit of laughter. “Regris, take a moment, find Gehnta, and see if she can help create a connection to the castleship. I believe Lance ought to have the opportunity to…” He was clearly struggling to bring his laughter under control, and it was _absolutely_ not working. “Ask Shiro himself.”

 

* * *

 

In the labyrinth below, Lotor slowly stood and dusted himself off.

That was a lesson. This place was clearly trapped, and he would have to be much warier than he had been. He hated getting caught off guard; it was, in a word, terrifying, to knot know what might be here. These were intended to be Trials, after all, and Kolivan had so heavily emphasized _knowledge or death,_ and Lotor was not at all unwilling to believe that he meant it.

So, fine. He would have to treat this as exactly as deadly as any other fight he had been in, or as any cursed tomb he had explored on some outer-edge planet. He couldn't even be sure there would be any signs, here; he didn't think he'd felt a wire or a pressure plate, which meant that whatever traps were in this strange labyrinth, they could very well be simple proximity triggers.

There was a lesson here, Lotor was sure. There had been a lesson in the first game they played with him — _nothing is literal; never assume you know exactly what is meant._ The double meaning of _you are not meant to go through that door_ was clever, and taught an important part of clandestine work. Codes and ciphers were rarely so upfront as a simple double-talk phrase, but things like that certainly existed.

So, fine. What was he meant to learn here? Was the intent to teach him some other essential piece of spycraft? What could there be to learn from a trapped labyrinth? _Always be aware of your surroundings?_ If that was the intended lesson, Lotor was clearly not the intended audience, because he was already constantly aware.

Not enough, perhaps, but as aware as he could manage.

He reached back across his bond with Lance almost unconsciously, checking up on his pairbond without a real thought. He could feel that Lance was concerned, first, and that made sense; he had likely felt and seen that trap go off. Lotor felt a brief rush of guilt, and then shoved it down. He had known this wouldn't be easy on Lance, but, selfishly, he was glad to have him close. If Lance had been far away, on the Castle of Lions....it would have been worse all around, really, without them being able to lean on each other.

He exhaled, briefly, and took a few steps down the next corridor, watching the walls and floor for any signs of another trap waiting for him.

 

* * *

 

Lance chewed on the inside of his cheek, leaning forward anxiously.

"Come on, babe," he said, voice soft, barely aware that he was speaking aloud, "be careful, keep your eyes open..."

"He's doing pretty good," Regris said, sliding back in. "Kolivan wasn't kidding, I think that's the fastest pass I've ever seen on the riddle game. By the way, I talked to Gehnta, she's working on an uplink and she'll be down here as soon as she's got one."

"Yeah, that's great," Lance said, a little distractedly. He watched Lotor reach ahead, and then dodge back just in time to avoid a jet of steam that had even Lance wincing away from the residual sensation of heat over the bond. "What is even the point of all this?"

"To show the initiate something about the work of being a member of the Blade," Kolivan said, from where he had finally managed to get his laughter under control, "and beyond that, to show the initiate something about themself."

"What does that even _mean_ ," Lance said, and he knew it didn't come out actually sounding like a question.

"The suit taps into its wearer's mindscape, and projects their greatest hopes and fears. Whatever this is, it is something from inside Lotor himself. A challenge _he_ needs to overcome." Kolivan explained.

"Sometimes it's stuff like this," Regris said, "sometimes it's, you know, horrifying arguments with the people you love, or—"

"Regris," Kolivan said warningly.

"Sorry," Regris said. Lance turned back to Lotor, frowning. That wasn't actually reassuring, to know that this was coming from somewhere deep inside his pairbond's head. To know that this was...what, Lotor's unresolved childhood trauma, on display?

Sure, it wasn't exactly a _surprise_ to know that Lotor might have an emotional labyrinth to work through. Everything Lance had heard about his past, and everything he'd seen, made that more than clear. It also wasn't exactly a jump to think that Lotor wouldn't want this to play out in front of the entire goddamn Blade.

Or even, Lance had to admit, in front of _him._ It hurt, to know that Lotor wouldn't, if he had a choice, want him to see whatever was going to happen here, but realistically? He wouldn't. Lotor wasn't exactly a warm, emotionally open person, and Lance couldn't blame him, not with what he knew of what Lotor had been through.

He bit the inside of his cheek, briefly, and returned his attention back to Lotor below him. Whatever he might have wanted, this was happening. All he could do was hope that Lotor would let him offer some comfort, after this was done.

 

* * *

 

Lotor frowned. As much progress as he felt like he was making, the walls of the labyrinth were alarmingly similar, and there were a large number of dead ends, every single one of which seemed to have _some_ trap waiting for him, every single one potentially fatal. It had been a long time since he had felt this….endlessly paranoid. The paranoia, he supposed, would keep him alive, but it also might exhaust him long before he found the actual exit.

Worse, all the corridors looked the same. He began marking walls with the knife after the third time he swore he had seen a particular branching path before, and his suspicions were quickly confirmed—he was wandering in circles, hopelessly lost in this never-ending maze.

He saw movement out of the corner of one eye, and he turned towards it. So far he hadn’t seen anything else alive in this place, and he wasn’t going to discount the possibility that this, too, was a trap, but the first Trial had come with a hint in the form of a riddle. Perhaps the second came with a directional guide in the form of a mysterious figure just out of view.

Lotor moved in the direction he’d seen the figure, doing his best to be as quiet as possible as he did. No reason to draw attention to himself; nothing said this wasn’t another enemy. Perhaps more Blades lurked here for another round of trial by combat.

Paranoia had served him for ten thousand years. It would serve him for a bit longer.

 

* * *

 

Nothing happening below him did anything to make Lance less nervous. Watching some shadowy figure dart around corners just out of Lotor’s reach was ratcheting his anxiety up pretty high, and he was pretty sure that some of it, the stuff that felt like _don’t rush ahead always look over your shoulder everything’s a trap_ was probably Lotor, which meant they were making what had to be a nasty feedback loop.

He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm down, and decided that he was, in fact, really glad Kolivan had made him come here, because he could only imagine feeling all of this with _no context,_ just the knowledge that Lotor was injured and afraid. It was a nightmare, and Lance was glad he was avoiding that, at least.

The door swung open, and Lance started, turning around. A figure in a full Blade suit stepped in, and gave Kolivan a brief nod.

“Gehnta,” Kolivan greeted, and Lance perked up.

“Leader,” Gehnta said, and she stepped over to a bank of computer displays Lance hadn’t actually bothered to notice before then. A few taps at the keyboard and Lance could see a connection establishing itself. “As you requested, an uplink with the Paladins’ castleship.”

“Thank you,” Kolivan said. Gehnta gave a brief nod, and then ducked out of the room, and Lance could have hugged her for not showing the same kind of where’s-my-space-popcorn intense interest everyone else seemed to have in Lotor’s Trials. Later, maybe, if he ran into her again.

Now, though, he had to turn to watch the call connect, and on the other end was a very confused-looking Allura.

“Kolivan?” She said, surprised. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Kolivan replied. “Please bring Shiro; we need to speak with him.”

“Of course,” Allura said, though she looked puzzled. There were a few moments of shuffling, and then Shiro ducked into the frame, looking deeply uncomfortable.

“Um,” he said, “Allura said you wanted to speak to me?”

“Not me,” Kolivan said, and he turned. “Lance, ask your question. And do be quick about it, this workaround will not hold forever.”

“Um,” Lance said, and then he moved over so he was definitely in frame, “so, Shiro, I wanted to ask—how’d you manage to hold it together during Keith’s Trial? I know the two of you weren’t pairbonded then, but….this really sucks, and I could use some advice.”

“Um,” Shiro said, and Lance was surprised to realize that he seemed to be _embarrassed,_ not quite able to meet Lance’s eyes even through the vidscreen. “Well, I—”

“He objectively didn’t,” Keith cut in, from somewhere offscreen, “don’t let him lie to you, _he tried to fight the entire base_.”

“What,” Lance said. That was…it seemed ridiculous, but also Keith had no reason to lie, and Kolivan looked like he was going to start laughing all over again, and okay, yes, that definitely explained why he found the whole thing so goddamn hilarious.

“I waited a while!” Shiro protested, turning to where Keith had to be.

“You tried to call the whole thing off every other varga,” Keith said, and he ducked into the frame, managing to look both deeply entertained and deeply fond at the same time. “I heard _all about it,_ everyone in the Blade wanted to make sure I heard how brave my pairbond was.” He snorted. “So, Lance? As long as you haven’t made a really good go at punching Kolivan, you’re doing better than Shiro.”

“I don’t regret any of it,” Shiro said, and Lance could see a dark flush crawling up his face. Keith sighed, and all the amusement left his expression, leaving nothing but the goopy fondness.

“Of course you don’t,” he said, and Lance rolled his eyes fondly.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” he said.

“And we are almost out of time,” Kolivan said.

“Hey, Lance?” Shiro said.

“Yeah?” Lance asked.

“Lotor’s gonna be okay. He made it all the way to us when he had the whole empire on his tail, he’ll make it through this.” Shiro said, and Lance nodded, as the feed cut out.

That was right. Lotor had made it through _way_ worse than some creepy trauma labyrinth. He was gonna be fine.

 

* * *

 

Something was happening on the observation deck. Lotor wasn’t sure what it was, but he could feel the shift in Lance’s mood; he’d been anxious, before, but now Lotor could feel a sense of calmer confidence, and he took a moment to close his eyes and bask in it. Whatever had happened, it had reassured Lance, and Lotor would be lying if he pretended that it didn’t reassure him, as well.

He didn’t pause for too long, though; there was another flicker of movement, and he followed it, and he was surprised to turn a corner and step into a room occupied by two figures. He was staring at their backs, at first, but even then, he swore he knew who they were.

A man and a woman; the man taller, obviously Galra, and dressed in Imperial armor; the woman smaller, Altean, with gray hair pulled into a bun, clad in a labcoat. The woman must have been the figure he’d seen, because she strode forward to stand beside the man, and he pulled her into a brief embrace. They adored each other, that was plain; they looked at each other the way Lotor had caught Shiro and Keith looking at each other in quiet moments, or the way Lotor knew he looked at Lance when he let himself be unguarded.

A tiny noise—of pain, or hope, or both, Lotor wasn’t sure—escaped his lips, and that was enough to get their attention. They turned at the same time, and both of them beamed, and Lotor knew that this was impossible, that there was no way what he was seeing was real, not the least because both of the people in front of him had been dead for ten thousand years and the room they were standing in had been gone for the same amount of time, but he didn’t _care._

“Lotor,” the woman said, and she beckoned him over, and he went, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

“Mother? Father?” He knew his voice trembled, and in front of the version of his father he had always known, that would have been a mistake. The version of his father in front of him, though—that was another matter entirely.

Here were his parents, youthful and happy and _alive,_ not warped by quintessence into undying monsters. Even if he knew it had to be some sort of trick, a trap, a game, he couldn’t make himself care. He could take a few steps forward and be drawn into his parents’ embrace, and for a moment, it didn’t matter that they were long gone.

For a moment, he felt like he had a family. For a moment, he was in Honerva’s laboratory on Daibazaal, where his mother had made so many breakthroughs in the study of quintessence, and where he had dreamed of growing up as a child left desperate and alone.

“Look at you,” Honerva said, voice soft, “you’ve gotten so _tall._ ” Her hands rested on either side of his face, and she gave him a half-critical once-over. “Clearly you’ve taken more after me, fortunately for you.”

Zarkon _laughed,_ a genuine sound of actual joy, and Lotor had to wrack his memory for any time he had ever heard his father sound like that—not even necessarily a laugh, just actual genuine _joy,_ not sadistic glee at the suffering of an enemy or pride in conquest.

He came up entirely empty.

"It has been far too long," Zarkon said, and there was a fondness in his voice that felt completely out of place.

Ancestors, he didn't even _sound_ like the Zarkon Lotor was used to. How much had quintessence altered him? What _else_ had it changed?

"It has, Father," he said, and he exhaled. "There is so much to do, always.” Vague references, because Lotor wasn’t sure exactly what was happening here, but he knew better than to trust it.

“Allura will be pleased to know you’ve returned,” Zarkon said, “she has been asking after you. Apparently she found another text on Oriande she thought you might find interesting.”

Lotor closed his eyes, and let out a tiny breath. Ah. Now he understood. That was the trial, wasn’t it? To present him with as perfect dream; a world where Daibazaal and Altea both still existed, where he and Allura had enough time to chase ancient legends, where his parents were alive and cared for him, where he had grown up with no need to fight to survive.

A lovely thing, and one that couldn’t last.

“I see,” he said, and he turned the luxite blade over in his hand briefly.

“Son,” Zarkon said, “you’ve given so much. Do you really need to pursue this...thing with the Blade of Marmora? We’d like to have you home. Lance would too, I’m sure.”

The dangled promise tasted like poison on Lotor’s tongue. How _dare_ this…..this false facade tease him with so many things he could never have? His parents, his beloved, half of his very _heritage_ ….all of those were out of his reach, and it was utterly infuriating to have it laid out before him like a banquet of food he would never be able to touch.

“I absolutely do,” Lotor said, and he swallowed a sob, because this was not the time for weakness. “This isn’t for the universe,” he forced his voice to hold steady, and not to crack, “this is for myself. And for you.”

“You know you don’t have to work so hard to make us proud,” Zarkon said, and his voice was so _gentle,_ and yet it still felt like knives in Lotor’s heart, “we’re already proud of you.”

A tiny sob escaped Lotor, and he hated himself for not being able to contain it.

"Oh, Lotor," Honerva said, “you’ve fought so hard and for so long _,_ but now it's time to come home and stay. Put down the knife; there's no need to continue pushing this." A tiny shudder ran through Lotor, and he gripped the knife’s hilt hard enough that he was half-sure it would bruise his palm.

"I'm sorry," he said, and his grip on the luxite blade tightened, "I cannot do that. I cannot turn a blind eye to all the suffering in the universe."

"That isn't what we're asking of you," Honerva said. "Stay with us, and we can do this _together,_ as a family."

"I wish that was an option I had," Lotor said, and he began to pull away, and braced himself for the anger that was absolutely guaranteed to follow.

“Of course it is,” Honerva said, and she didn’t _sound_ angry, but Lotor wasn’t willing to trust that. Her grip on him tightened, rather than letting him go, and he felt, for a moment, wholly unable to breathe.

“No,” Lotor said, and he pulled away harder, and Honerva finally let him go, and he was met, then, with two cold, angry faces.

Ah. There it was.

“We thought you wanted to come _home,_ Lotor,” Zarkon said, and he sounded far more like the father Lotor knew, then. “Are we not enough for you?”

“That isn’t….” Lotor felt grief wash over him like a tidal wave, and he closed his eyes, unable to face the dissolution of the dream.

“Go, then,” Honerva said coldly, and he flinched. “ _Get out.”_

He opened his eyes, and the room had dissolved leaving him in an empty corridor.

 

* * *

 

“That was fucked up,” Lance said, voice quiet. There were a million other words he could have used. Lotor would likely have more eloquence in his own defense. Lance wasn’t Lotor; all he knew was that he could feel an empty, cold ache in his chest, and he knew where it came from, and it made him understand why Shiro had been willing to square up with the entire Blade.

“Yep,” Regris agreed, and he sounded a lot less casual about it than Lance might have expected. “Man, I guess it’s not that surprising he’s got family issues, Zarkon’s probably not running for dad of the year, but that was pretty bad.” He shook his head. “Who’s the lady?”

“Honerva. She was an Altean alchemist,” Lance said, almost idly. He remembered that much, from Coran’s story about the original Paladins. “Now she’s Zarkon’s creepy witch Haggar.”

“Shit,” Regris said. Lance hummed a noise of agreement and leaned forward.

This clearly wasn’t over yet.

 

* * *

 

Lotor stood in the spot where he’d been left by the visions of his parents, shaking with barely-suppressed frustration.

“Is this what you wanted, Kolivan?” He snarled. He could feel hot, angry tears rolling down his cheeks, and he couldn’t make himself care. There was no question that Kolivan was watching; if he wasn’t there was no point to this whole exercise. “Do you derive _amusement_ from seeing my pain laid out before you? Is this the purpose of your thrice-damned Trials, to turn me inside out and lay everything in me bare? To poke at every crack and cranny, to ensure I’m _fit_ to be one of your Blades? _What is the point of all of this?_ What is the _lesson,_ here? Is it to show me that it’s foolish to want what I cannot have? I already _know that,_ I have known that for _ten thousand years,_ you cannot _imagine—_ ”

He felt the fury drain out of him, along with all his energy, and he collapsed to his knees, reaching up to twist his fingers in his hair.

“What is the _point,”_ he said, “what is the _purpose_ to sticking me in a labyrinth with no exit? Am I meant to wander it forever? Is there something I am not _seeing?_ Is…”

He stopped, and slowly lowered his hands from his hair.

No exit. No way out. No point in wandering in circles, in continuing to waste his energy getting lost. No point chasing the past, or chasing things he couldn’t have.

“The only way to win,” Lotor said, voice soft, “is not to play.”

Around him, he watched the labyrinth melt away, and he heard footsteps, approaching rapidly. He turned in the direction of the sound, and he felt his heart flip in his chest.

“Wow, babe,” Lance said, and he extended a hand to help him up, which Lotor gratefully took, “you look like a mess. But you made it.”

 

* * *

 

“What am _I_ doing down there?” Lance asked. “Didn’t you say it was like, hopes and fears or whatever? So why _me?”_ Sure, he felt like he’d gotten some mixed signals from Lotor on the whole possibility-of-feelings thing, but for the most part Lotor had been pretty set on everything related to them being together being a hard _no,_ and Lance didn’t think it was all that out there to assume that Lotor’s objections ran deeper than just “Haggar’s crazy and will murder you horribly.” Like, in the “actually had zero desire to be with Lance and considered the whole pairbonding thing to be a massive mistake” direction.

“Your pairbond deeply desires to see you,” Kolivan said, and Lance sighed.

“I mean, at least he wants to see me,” he said, and he knew it came out a little bitter. He thought that was pretty fair, though, with all the effort Lotor had been putting into avoiding him. Regris made a noise that sounded almost choked, and Lance glanced over at him, one eyebrow raised.

“ _Amazing,”_ Regris said, and he really did sound impressed. With what, Lance had no idea.

“What?” Lance asked. Regris shook his head.

“Nothing, never mind.” He turned to Kolivan and said something in Galra that made Kolivan snort, and Lance frowned.

“ _What?”_ He demanded.

“Unimportant,” Kolivan said. “Pay attention.”

“Ugh,” Lance said, but he turned back to the view below, watching his holo-self pat his hands all over Lotor like he was checking his injuries, except his hands seemed to be lingering in some extra-touchy ways, and….alright, yeah, fair enough, that seemed pretty much like him. So far.

He absolutely did not trust that there wasn’t a curveball coming. There had been every single step so far, surely this was just the next windup.

 

* * *

 

Lotor let Lance help him stand and check him for injuries, and forced himself to resist the urge to lean forward and just _hold_ him for a moment. Lance wouldn’t appreciate it, he was sure, even if he might _endure_ it out of some sense of misplaced distress over Lotor’s Trials.

“Are _you_ alright?” He asked, and Lance rolled his eyes.

“You spend hours getting smacked around, and you ask if _I’m_ alright. Jesus, Lotor.” Lance’s hand came up to rest on Lotor’s cheek, pushing his hair away from his face, and Lotor felt his heart do a little flip in his chest at the soft, gentle expression on Lance’s face. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Get back to the castleship. You look like hell.”

“I can’t,” Lotor said, and he looked down at the blade in his hand, still just a knife, with nothing to indicate it had _awakened._ “I need to finish this, _majramano._ I’m sorry.”

“Do you though,” Lance asked, and he frowned. “Because, y’know, if we’re being honest, I’m really not okay. I feel like I’ve been through the wringer just as much as you, and I’m tired, and I just don’t want to be here, so let’s _go home.”_

“I cannot begin this and not see it through,” Lotor said, and he took a step back, away from Lance, bracing himself for what was undoubtedly coming.

“Seriously?” Lance asked, furiously. “Do you even _care_ about what’s happening to _me,_ here? I mean, sure, if it was just your ass on the line, that’s one thing, but it’s _not._ ”

“Of _course_ I care about what is happening to you,” Lotor said, “I l—” He barely managed to stop himself in time. No, no, that was not how it should come out.

“What, you _love me?”_ Lance mocked, rolling his eyes, and apparently Lotor’s hesitation didn’t matter, because he knew anyway. “Come on, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not fucking _capable,_ you selfish, manipulative bastard.”

“Lance,” Lotor began, and he had gone over thousands of ways he might finally admit his feelings, but this…this was not any of them. Too many were far-fetched romantic fantasies, the type of thing he absolutely was not allowed to have, but this felt...cruel, beyond even what he had feared. “I do. Love you. Although I cannot fault you for not believing me.”

 

* * *

 

In the observation room, Lance clamped his hands over his mouth in horrified surprise.

He genuinely wasn’t sure if the feeling of his heart being ripped in half was him, or Lotor, or both of them.

“No,” he said, “I don’t think that, I know him better than that, I— _come on!”_ It wasn’t right, it wasn’t _fair;_ this wasn’t how Lance had wanted to hear Lotor say he loved him. It should have been on their terms, when Lotor was ready, not pulled out of him by some asshole hologram. “Let me go down there, I need to go down there.”

“No,” Kolivan said, firmly, and he gave Lance a look that would have pinned him in the chair with no other words. “The Trials must not be interrupted. Remember, Lotor chose this. Do you imagine he would appreciate being denied the chance to complete what he began?”

“I—” Lance started, and then he stopped. He’d been about to say he didn’t care if Lotor was pissed about it, this had to stop, but…that wouldn’t be fair. He’d be denying Lotor a chance at something he clearly wanted very badly, just because it got hard for _him._

So he let his attention move back to the scene playing out below them, and decided resolutely that when this was over, he and Lotor were going to have a _conversation_. Clearly, one was long overdue.

 

* * *

 

“Really? You _do?”_ Lance mocked, and Lotor flinched. “What do you even know about love, huh? Because it sure isn’t fucking pairbonding me without giving a shit about what I want.”

“I know that I have done you a terrible wrong,,” Lotor said, “and it is true, I know little of love—but I know _enough,_ Lance. I know what I feel.” As if that mattered. As if that ever had, or ever would. “And I know you do not feel the same, and I have _more_ than accepted that, I promise you. So let me finish this, so I can remove myself from your life.”

“If you really loved me,” Lance said, and suddenly he was moving into Lotor’s space, grabbing his chin, tugging him down, “you would forget all this and come back to the castleship. Drop the blade, let it go. Or do you _want_ me to suffer?”

“Of course that isn’t what I want,” Lotor said, anguished, and he reached up to grip Lance’s wrist and pull his hand away, “but you and I both know that you will be much happier once this bond is broken and you no longer have to concern yourself with me.”

“And the whole time, I get to suffer, because you’re a selfish jackass,” Lance said coldly. “Were you even thinking about me at _all,_ at any point here? Because all of this is supposedly for my benefit, but all I know is that I’m hurting and exhausted and all fucking wound up because _you’re_ having a bad day and getting your fine ass kicked.”

“I am _sorry,_ Lance,” Lotor said, “but all of this is necessary.”

 _“Ugh,”_ Lance said, yanking his wrist out of Lotor’s hand and turning around, “whatever. Maybe if I’m really lucky, this’ll kill you, and I’ll be done with it even _quicker.”_

“Lance—” Lotor started, but he was already walking away.

He wasn’t sure exactly when he fell to his knees, he only knew that he _did._ He stared down at the knife in his hands, and wondered. This _would_ be over much quicker if he just—

No. Absolutely not.

He forced himself back to his feet. Forward. Forward was the only direction he could go in. Forward was the only thing that mattered.


	5. Chapter 5

Lance didn’t realize he’d started crying until he registered that his vision was blurry and his cheeks felt wet, and even then it took him a moment to make it from that to _‘oh, yeah, definitely crying.’_

“I don’t…that’s not what I want,” he said, voice breaking. “Is that really what he thinks I think?”

“Difficult to say,” Kolivan said, and Lance might have imagined it, but there seemed to be something gentle in his voice, or at least gentler than he’d been. “The suit gives voice to its wearer’s worst fears and darkest thoughts. It is possible that he _believes_ you think that, or simply that he _fears_ it.”

That wasn’t really an answer, but Lance supposed it was better than nothing. He found himself curling up, huddling in on himself, and he forcibly reminded himself that this wasn’t about him. Lotor was the one down there actually suffering.

When this was over, Lance resolved, he was going to make sure Lotor knew exactly how he felt.

 

* * *

 

When Lotor took a step and found himself on the bridge of the castleship, he knew that this had to be yet another test. The bridge was dark, and colder than he was used to, and that already had him on edge. There was no _good_ reason for that. Whatever this test was, it was clearly going to involve all of Voltron, and that was...less than ideal. He was not eager to see what horrors the Trials were willing to make of them.

They were all present, even Keith; he was leaning against Shiro, ears low and back. Allura stood at the teludav, and she was focused on trying to get it to wake up; Hunk and Pidge were helping Coran with some of the wiring underneath the castleship's computers. Lance was fidgeting nervously with his bayard, the way Lotor had noticed he tended to when he was particularly anxious before a battle.

He grit his teeth, closed his eyes, and took a steadying breath to prepare himself, and then strode forward.

"What's going on?" He asked, resting a hand on Allura's shoulder to get her attention. She turned, and blinked, and seemed surprised to see him, which was, he supposed, fair enough.

"You're here," she said, and then she actually gave him a welcoming smile, and Lotor wasn't sure what to make of that. Was this going to be another dream he could never have? Being welcomed as a proper ally of Voltron, rather than someone they mostly seemed to grudgingly tolerate? "We were worried—no one could contact you when the power went out."

"I'm fine," Lotor said, and she looked slightly skeptical, and he wondered if he appeared in this vision as battered as he felt. He glanced down, and—yes, still in the Trial suit, still clutching the knife, still otherwise unarmed, and no one was treating that as at all strange.

"We ran across a Galra cruiser, and we were prepared to fight, but...everything went dark, and we cannot access the hangars for the Lions," Allura explained. Lotor frowned. Few things could stop the workings of a Balmera crystal-powered engine, and whatever was coming, he could only imagine that it would be terrible.

"This wasn't you, was it?" Pidge demanded, and Lotor winced. Not fully accepted, then. The Green Paladin had never before been subtle about her distrust of him, and clearly that wasn't going to change now.

"Of course not," Lotor said, and he was genuinely unsure if he sounded defensive or just...exhausted. Both, possibly.

"Lay off him, Pidge," Lance said, and Lotor knew his surprise had to show on his face, especially when Lance moved next to him to put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"I'm just saying, the last time the power went out, it was because of somebody inside the ship," Pidge said.

"I assure you," Lotor said, "I have no intention of harming any of you _or_ aiding the Empire." It wasn't even conscious, not entirely, but he found himself leaning towards Lance, and towards the comfort the hand on his arm provided. It was such a welcome balm, a little, dangled offering of hope, even if it was a lie.

Suddenly, the castleship shook with a massive explosion, and Lotor instinctively moved to push Lance behind him, bringing up his knife as if that would provide any genuine protection from what was coming. He could see the others move into battle-ready positions, and Coran took a step back, letting the Paladins move to cover him.

The doors to the bridge flew open, and Lotor was genuinely startled to see _Throk_ standing in front of a bank of sentries. Of all the people Lotor had considered capable of leading a tactical infiltration of the Castle of Lions, Throk was....not high on the list. Certainly he wasn't _incapable,_ but he also wasn't particularly _clever._

Still, here he was, and he was obviously prepared to do harm, and his capabilities were....no longer particularly at issue, given that.

"There's no need to be so wary, Paladins," Throk said, and he sounded something approaching amused, "I'm not here for any of you. Just for _him._ " He pointed his sword at Lotor, and Lotor could hardly be surprised. "We're here to arrest the traitor in the name of the Galra Empire."

"Like hell you are," Lance said, and he moved to put himself between Lotor and Throk, bayard raised. To Lotor's genuine surprise, the other Paladins moved to protect him as well, even Pidge. Throk sighed, heavily.

"Hard way it is, then," he said.

The sentries fell on them, hard. The Paladins were all more than competent fighters, and Lotor hardly feared for their safety. The formation they fell into was easy and clearly practiced, Lance and Hunk falling back with ranged weapons, while Shiro, Keith, Pidge, and Allura moved to engage in melee combat. Lotor slid in himself, slicing a sentry's head off with a single swipe of his luxite dagger and moving to engage Throk one on one.

"You're going to take me on with _that?_ " Throk mocked, eyes on Lotor's dagger. "A tiny little knife, barely worth even being called that?"

"I hardly need anything more to defeat _you,_ " Lotor said, and he moved in, dodging around Throk's sword strike and moving in—

Pain bloomed in his gut, and he nearly doubled over, reaching down to see what had struck him, and was surprised to come up empty, until he couldn’t feel anything at all but an agony that went beyond mere reflected physical pain, an agony like someone had somehow taken a knife to his very _soul,_ and carved a portion out of it.

There was a scream of agony, slightly to his left, and he turned, but even before he saw, he _knew_.

The pain was because Lance was on his knees with a hole in his armor, and the scream had to have been Keith, because he was holding a fallen Shiro in his arms. Lotor watched him leap to his feet, and then he, too, was cut down, and it was obvious that with three of their own down, the Paladins were faltering. Pidge fell next, and Allura moved to try and intercept her attacker and was cut down too. Hunk fell protecting Coran, and Coran himself was shot with his hands up.

Lotor wanted to feel something, anything at all, but all he could feel was an emptiness so heavy he swore it would crush him. Having Lance _ripped away—_

There were stories about Galra withering away and dying because their pairbonds were lost. Lotor had never quite understood them before, but he did now.

"Maybe you _are_ that much better than me," Throk said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "but does it really matter? I don't have to beat _you._ I just have to beat _them._ "

His blade went through Lotor's back, and Lotor was far too destroyed to even think of fighting.

When he stepped onto the darkened bridge a second time, his heart lurched. Everything looked the same, except this time it was Lance who noticed him first, glancing up from fiddling with his deactivated bayard and lighting up.

“You’re okay!” He said, and he was unabashed about pulling Lotor down into a kiss. Lotor went, and hated himself for it, because it was stupid to cling to the unattainable dream, especially when it had been made more than clear that his feelings were not reciprocated.

The real Lance despised him, rightly so. This dream version, however fleeting, did not, and as much as Lotor despised _himself_ for taking these brief moments with a version of his beloved who loved him back, he couldn’t turn away.

“I was worried about you,” Lance continued, and his hands stayed on either side of Lotor’s face, “it’s so good to see you’re okay.”

“And I am glad to see you,” Lotor said, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against Lance’s.

When the explosion came, he was ready, and he braced himself, pulling Lance tight against his chest to keep them both upright. Once again, he watched the Paladins fall into formation, but this time Lotor insistently stuck close to Lance. Maybe if he focused on watching his pairbond’s back, instead of chasing after Throk, this time would go better.

The doors to the bridge flew open, and there was Throk and his squadron.

"There's no need to be so wary, Paladins," Throk said, "I'm not here for any of you. Just for _him._ " He pointed his sword at Lotor, in a perfect repetition of his first entrance. "We're here to arrest the traitor in the name of the Galra Empire."

"Like hell you are," Lance said, just as he had last time. Throk sighed, heavily.

"Hard way it is, then," he said.

The battle was joined, and Lotor was sure to stay as close to Lance as possible. There would be no shots in the back this time, not if Lotor could help it.

Throk seemed determined to push through to him, but Keith and Shiro moved to intercept him, and Lotor almost cheered when he watched Pidge send one sentry flying into another and shut both of them down with a burst of electricity. This time, the tide of the fight actually seemed to be turning in their direction.

And then there was the bloom of pain, this time in Lotor’s chest. He spun, panic surging— he couldn’t watch Lance die _again_ —but Lance was clearly fine, and he was staring at _Lotor_ with open terror.

Lotor looked down, and reached up at the same time to confirm it—yes, a sentry’s shot had caught him in the chest. Yes, he was bleeding sluggishly.

“Oh,” he said, and he fell to his knees. Lance ran forward to catch him, and he was kneeling in front of Lotor when Throk’s sword passed through his back and out his chest, and he collapsed forward into Lotor’s arms.

Lotor felt the bond between them break, and somehow it was even more terrible the second time. It lingered on the pain, until the emptiness crashed like a tidal wave as Lance drew his last, shuddery breath.

“Tragic,” Throk said, and Lotor wanted to shut his eyes or struggle, but all he could do was hold onto Lance, even though he _knew_ he was gone. He felt a hand twist in his hair and _yank,_ and he gasped, but he still couldn’t make himself struggle. “ _Look,_ you coward,” Throk snarled in his ear. “Watch them die for you. At least do them the courtesy of _seeing._ ”

Lotor swallowed, and he watched the Paladins fall one by one, all over again.

When it was over, Throk slashed his throat open, and it was a mercy.

 

* * *

 

Lance didn’t want to say that he was panicking, but he was sort of panicking. Lotor had collapsed to the ground not long after his awful holo-duplicate vanished, and he hadn’t moved since.

Whatever was happening, he knew Lotor was in pain. He could feel it, every bit of emotional torment he was experiencing in whatever hallucination the suit had him trapped in.

“Why can’t you just make it _stop?_ ” He asked desperately. “Let him take a break, come back and finish it later, I don’t….it feels like he’s _dying._ ” He knew he was still crying, and maybe he should have been embarrassed about the display of emotion, dramatic and sloppy and all over everything, but the man he loved was in _pain_ and there was nothing he could do about it.

“The Trials are almost at an end, I suspect,” Kolivan said, “and we will have an answer soon. Knowledge or death.”

“He...he isn’t really gonna _die_ if he fails, is he?” Lance asked, feeling his panic peak. “He can’t die, I can’t lose him like that.”

“Then hope that he succeeds,” Kolivan said. Lance wanted to scream, and frankly he completely understood why Shiro had nearly ended up fighting the entire base. He was getting pretty close to that point himself.

But Lotor wouldn’t want it. He had to remember that. Lotor had chosen this, and if he wanted to respect Lotor’s wishes, he would let this play out.

Even if it broke his heart.

 

* * *

 

Lotor lost track of how many times he struggled through that same terrible scene. Over and over and over again, he stood and fought beside the Paladins, and they fell, and so did he. Sometimes he was the first to go down, sometimes the last, but he was always the last to _die,_ and he had to watch the others fall, over and over again. Had to watch them pay for his defiance with their lives. Had to feel Lance ripped away from him over and over and over, enough that he swore he would still carry that feeling of loss with him even when he was freed from this.

How many times was this going to happen? How many times would he struggle and lose? His sense of any time outside this terrible, awful loop was utterly destroyed. It was the same bit of frenzied fighting, the same desperation to save himself and everyone else, over and over and over again, and it always ended in the same terrible, awful failure.

And maybe that was where he was going wrong.

Lotor had always known he was living on borrowed time. He was a Galra soldier, first and foremost. _Victory or death,_ and someday…there would be no victory. Not for him, at least.

One life weighed against seven others. His one, single, miserable life, ten thousand years of failure, weighed against the seven defenders of the universe, the best hope for ending his father’s reign and bringing freedom.

 _His_ life for _Lance’s._

The choice was easy.

So when Throk and his squadron burst through the door onto the castleship’s bridge and demanded his surrender, Lotor didn’t pull out his sword to fight. He raised his hands, and he heard Lance make a noise of horror behind him.

“Lotor, wait, no—” Lance stepped forward like he intended to stop him, but he was too slow.

“The most intelligent possible move, _your highness,_ ” Throk said mockingly, and then his sword went through Lotor’s chest

and Lotor jolted awake with his fingers still curled around the luxite dagger, pushing himself off the floor and onto his knees. He watched as before his eyes, the dagger _changed._ It grew from dagger to sword, similar to his old ones but with a few key differences—ones that were key enough to make Lotor’s heart skip.

An Altean broadsword. His luxite dagger had, in its awakened form, taken the form of an _Altean broadsword._

As soon as he was sure that it was real, Lotor felt all the strength drain from him, and he almost fell back to the floor, but he forced himself to stay at least partially upright, on his knees.. He could hear footsteps approaching, and he looked up, and a tiny noise of pain passed his lips almost unthinkingly. There were Lance and Kolivan, and Lance was practically running to him, and he was _heartbroken_ —and even though Lotor could feel it, through their bond, he couldn’t make sense of it.

It was a blessing, though, to be able to feel it at all. After feeling Lance ripped away from him over and over and over again, in that terrible illusion, all he wanted to do was bask in being able to _feel him_ again, even if he knew now exactly what Lance really thought of him, with all the artifice pulled away. He could hardly pretend it was a surprise; the idea that someone could genuinely care for him was patently ridiculous.

Still, at least Lance was alive. Even if he despised Lotor, that was far, far better than….the alternative.

When Lance reached for him, Lotor flinched away automatically. Even if Lance looked gentle and tender _now,_ it was impossible to forget how he’d looked _before,_ and he couldn’t expect this obviously pity-inspired gentleness to last.

There was a breathless, terrible moment where he anticipated a spike of anger in response to him flinching away, but instead all he could feel through the bond was _sadness._ He chanced a look up from the floor, and Lance had withdrawn, and he clearly looked distressed, but Lotor wasn’t entirely sure if it was _for_ him or _because_ of him, and it was difficult to parse because knowing _what_ Lance was feeling wasn’t the same as knowing _why._

“I’m sorry,” he said, the apology tumbling out without thought, “I—” Lance knelt down in front of him, and he stopped talking.

“Is it okay if I hug you?” Lance asked. The offer seemed incomprehensible, and yet he could feel nothing but sincerity, and that left Lotor even more disoriented.

“Yes,” Lotor said, in spite of his confusion. When Lance’s arms wrapped around him he sank into the embrace gratefully, reaching up to move his arms around Lance’s shoulders. 

“That wasn’t me,” Lance said, and suddenly Lotor understood the apparent contradiction before him. The Lance that had berated him, accused him, gone for his heart and ripped it out—he hadn’t been _real._ He wasn’t the Lance whose arms, Lotor was partially convinced, were the only things keeping him tethered to consciousness. “I don’t…I don’t think any of those things about you. Not anymore.” He was talking like he needed to _apologize_ , which was strange, because he—or rather, his holographic clone, it seemed, because _nothing in the Trials had been real,_ and he should have _known_ that, he was an _idiot_ —hadn’t said anything that wasn’t, fundamentally, _true._ “I used to, but I was so, _so_ wrong about you, you aren’t any of those things, okay?”

“It’s alright,” Lotor said, softly. It _was._ It was _fine._ It had to be fine. Lance didn’t completely despise him, and that was….that was something. That was more than he had ever really let himself hope for. “Help me stand?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, without hesitation, and Lotor leaned on him as they both stood. He realized once he was back on his feet that he was alarmingly dizzy; the Trials had been exhausting, and he was leaning on Lance far more than he ought to, but when he tried to straighten the rest of the way the dizziness only got worse.

Distantly, he registered Lance saying _“he’s coming back with me,”_ and Kolivan agreeing, and he forced himself to shake out of the haze and protest.

“That isn’t necessary, I think it’s best if I—” _“if I stay here,”_ he’d wanted to say, or maybe _“if I stay away from you,”_ but Lance looked up at him with pleading eyes and he stopped before he could finish.

“Please,” Lance said, and Lotor could no more have denied him than he could have stopped his own heart from beating.

“Alright,” Lotor said. If he were honest with himself, he ached for the comfort and security of his pairbond’s arms, and damn the consequences. He forced himself to lift his head and turn to Kolivan. “Kolivan—” he began, but the old Blade shook his head.

“We will speak after you have rested.” His tone left no room to question. Lotor nodded, briefly, and Kolivan’s expression softened. “You have done well,” he said, “and you will be an asset the Blades are proud to have.”

It was a strange thing, to have someone openly admitting to be proud of him. Lotor couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that from a real person who might actually mean it.

“Thank you,” he said, rather than lingering on that deeply depressing fact.

He let Lance help him back to the shuttle they’d come in, and most of the flight and their arrival on the castleship was a blur. He managed to register Lance asking if he needed the healing pods, and he shook his head firmly. No, absolutely not, he would _not_ go into any kind of cryosleep. Lance must have felt how unpleasant he found the prospect, because he didn’t push, just guided Lotor through the ship and, Lotor realized once they’d stepped through the door, back to Lance’s own room.

“It’s not as nice as that room where we spent your heat, but I know I’ve got some first aid stuff here,” Lance said. “Come on, let’s get you out of that suit.”

“You hardly need to—” Lotor began, as he stood up to peel the suit off, but Lance shushed him gently and reached out to help.

“I saw what happened out there. You got your ass kicked, _querido_ , you need this,” he said. Lotor wanted to argue, but it was easier to just let Lance help him in peeling off the suit and revealing a myriad of bruises. Lance made a noise that sounded genuinely distressed, and Lotor winced guiltily. “Man, I knew it was bad, but _seeing_ it…”

“I’m sorry,” Lotor said, and he wasn’t sure how many apologies that made. More than he’d ever handed out in such a short period before, certainly. “I should have considered…this is much less to me than it is to you.”

“ _Much less?”_ Lance asked, and there was that distress again, and Lotor shoved down the urge to apologize _again._

“I am used to pushing past pain. You are not. I…imagine this is more uncomfortable for you than it is for me.” He explained, instead. Lance frowned, and then he shook his head and reached into the medkit, pulling out antiseptic and bandages for the wound on Lotor’s side.

“I’d ask you to tell me if anything hurts, but…I guess I don’t need you to,” Lance said, and Lotor let out a tiny laugh in spite of himself.

“No, you don’t,” Lotor said, “and your perceptions…may be more valuable than mine.” He leaned back and let Lance work, first cleaning and bandaging the open wound, and the shuffling through the items in the kit for, Lotor suspected, something to help with the bruising. He had to admit, it did look fairly bad; he could see the ugly patterns from all the hits he’d taken over the course of his Trial, and that didn’t take into account how tired he was.

“A-ha,” Lance said, producing a small jar. When he opened it, the gel inside had clearly been used. “I have no idea what the label on this thing says, but the stuff in it is cold, and it helps. I promise.” Lotor nodded.

“I trust you,” he said, unhesitatingly. He closed his eyes and did his best to relax as Lance applied the gel over the worst of his injuries, but he couldn’t help the occasional flinch; it _was_ cold, moreso even than he’d expected.

He was surprised to feel cold hands on his face, and then a brief brush of lips on his nose.

“Sorry,” Lance murmured when he opened his eyes, “just. You looked really cute, and I thought—it kinda feels like you needed something like that.” Lotor could feel his cheeks heating up, and he looked down and away. This wasn’t fair; Lance had _heard_ what he’d said, surely. If there had been any question before, there could be none now. He knew how Lotor felt and he was being just as casually touchy and affectionate as before, and it was…cruel, almost. In a way he hadn’t thought Lance could be.

There was a gentleness, though, a care that Lotor was painfully unused to receiving, and it was easy to close his eyes and let Lance work. It was easy to pretend that they were something more than partners of convenience and accident, to pretend that this was something more than Lance making the pragmatic choice to ease his own hurt by easing Lotor’s.

Still.

“Lance,” Lotor said, voice soft, “I know I have no right to ask this of you, but…” He exhaled. “I want…” He struggled with the exact way to phrase it. Everything he considered felt _wrong,_ somehow; too vague, too euphemistic, too blunt. “I want _you,”_ he said, finally. It was inelegant, but it would have to do.

“Okay,” Lance said, and then he leaned in, drawing Lotor into a long, slow kiss. Lotor leaned into it eagerly, and he let himself pretend. That was all this had to be. A moment to pretend that there was a single soul in the universe who cared for him.

Lotor let his hands trace up Lance’s sides, and he whined faintly when Lance reached between them, hand wrapping around his cock. He rolled his hips into Lance’s hand as Lance stroked his cock, slowly bringing it to full hardness. His hands worked to undo Lance’s armor, and he pulled away from Lance’s mouth once he’d gotten the chest piece off and exposed his neck, kissing down the bare skin. For a moment, he wanted to lay his lips on the bondmark at the junction of Lance’s neck and shoulder, but he resisted the urge. It was far too intimate for what they were, and it would be taking far more liberties than he could ever be allowed.

Instead, he leaned up to steal another kiss, and Lance twisted his fingers in Lotor’s hair and tugged, and the sharp pain-pleasure of having his hair pulled made Lotor moan into the kiss.

“God you’re gorgeous,” Lance breathed when he pulled away, releasing his grip on Lotor’s hair, and he gently pushed on Lotor’s shoulders. “Lay back,” he said.

“As you wish,” Lotor purred, and he sank back. This was the easy part; sex was just sex, and he was familiar enough with _that._ It would give him just a little while of feeling like he mattered, and after all he’d endured during his Trial, it felt only fair to ask for that.

Lance moved his hand from Lotor’s cock to between his thighs, teasing at his entrance while he shifted to bend down and draw a lick over the tip of his cock. Lotor let out an unashamed whine, opening his legs to allow Lance to slot between them more easily. It was impossible to take his eyes off him; Lance was beautiful and eager and _talented._ He took Lotor’s cock into his mouth as his fingers worked Lotor’s cunt, and Lotor shuddered under his eager ministrations.

“Lance, _yes,”_ he moaned, and he felt a spark of lust through the bond. He would have felt self-satisfied, except Lance crooked his fingers and pressed them against that wonderful spot inside him and Lotor spent a moment seeing stars. “ _Lance!”_

Lance leaned down, and Lotor felt his cock hit the back of Lance’s throat, and he made a desperate moaning noise, fingers twisting in the sheets. It was an incredible effort not to fuck up into his throat, especially when Lance started swallowing around his cock. He could feel his claws extending and tearing into the sheets, and he couldn’t make himself care.

Lance pressed against his g-spot at the same time he moaned around Lotor’s cock, and the combined stimulation was almost enough to push him over the edge, but he grit his teeth and forced himself to hold off.

“I want you inside me,” he said, and Lance slid off his cock with a sloppy, wet _pop_ and gave him a teasing grin, crooking his fingers again and making Lotor cry out.

“I could do this all day, y’know,” he said, “just watch you fall apart on my fingers. Buuuuuuut,” he slid his fingers out, and Lotor let out an involuntary little whine, “we don’t have all day, and I also really wanna give you what _you_ want.”

“Lance,” Lotor said, and he was sure his frustration showed, because Lance let out a laugh and then stepped back, shimmying out of the rest of his Paladin armor and leaving it in a pile on the floor.

“God,” Lance said, as he settled himself between Lotor’s thighs, “how’d I get so lucky.” Lotor flushed, eyes flicking away from Lance’s face. There was no need to let him see how much that affected Lotor, especially when it didn’t, _couldn’t_ mean what Lotor wanted it to.

Lance let out a breath, shifting slightly and sliding into him, and Lotor moaned as he was filled up. _That,_ he could be blatant about. Maybe if he focused on how good it was instead of dwelling on all of the ridiculous emotions twisting him up, he could keep Lance from realizing anything was going on. Maybe if he was especially lucky, Lance would assume any particular tangled feelings on his part were the result of the Trial, and not this. Not his lingering foolish affection for someone who was never going to love him back.

“ _Yes,_ ” he sighed, and he wrapped his legs around Lance’s waist, pulling him in. “So very good.”

“So are you, gorgeous,” Lance said, and he bent down to press a long kiss to Lotor’s lips. Lotor moaned pleasantly, sitting up partway and slinging an arm around Lance’s shoulders, using the other to keep himself partially upright. When Lance began to move, he rolled his hips to meet him, teasing his tongue into Lance’s mouth and letting himself drown in the pleasure he could feel through their bond. If nothing else, at least he could give Lance _that_ much. He was, he liked to think, a more than competent lover. Lance seemed to agree, if what Lotor was feeling was correct.

Lance broke from the kiss and began to trail kisses down Lotor’s neck, and unlike Lotor he wasn’t shy about laying one on the bondmark. Lotor tossed his head back almost unthinkingly, baring his throat to Lance and letting him continue to lay kisses against it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lance murmured against his neck, teeth gently sinking into the mark, which made Lotor whine desperately. “So good for me, so perfect,” Lotor felt Lance’s hands tracing up his sides, gently circling around the bruises, “and so strong, _mi amor, mi corazón,”_ Lance didn’t seem to be stopping, but Lotor couldn’t help the rush of sadness the unfamiliar words brought up. He could only guess at what language they were; nothing he was familiar with, certainly; but he didn’t have to know what they _meant_ to understand what was being _said,_ and all of it was a gentleness he didn’t _deserve,_ that Lance shouldn’t be giving to him. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and he squeezed them shut and looked away, like that might cover his heartbreak if he tried hard enough.

“Hey,” Lance said, and Lotor felt hands on his cheeks, and he knew he had lost the battle against letting tears escape, “what’s wrong? Are you okay? Do we need to stop?” Lotor shook his head and swallowed, trying not to get lost in the sudden onrush of guilt he felt. It wasn’t fair to make Lance have to sort through all of Lotor’s tangled feelings. This was supposed to be easy; apparently nothing could be easy for him anymore. “Hey, come on, sweetheart, talk to me,” Lance encouraged. _That_ endearment, Lotor knew, and it hurt.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, with what little voice he could muster.

“Yeah, but I want to,” Lance said, and he pressed a brief kiss to Lotor’s forehead. Lotor flinched, without really meaning to, and he could feel the twist of sadness Lance felt in response. “Come on, what is it, really? I don’t want to hurt you, or anything—”

“That isn’t it,” Lotor shook his head. “You aren’t—I—never mind,” he reached up to wipe at his cheeks, fruitless as it apparently was. Lance reached up and gently curled his fingers around Lotor’s, pulling his hand away from his face. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” Lance said, and Lotor could have screamed. It made no _sense,_ and he hated that it made no sense. “Let me help you, Lotor, come on.”

“I am not your responsibility, Lance,” Lotor said, and he knew his bitterness had to show in his voice. This was _absurd._

“Yeah, you kinda are,” Lance said, voice soft. “I mean, I know I don’t know a lot of the, like, finer significance around pairbonds? But it’s kinda like marriage, on Earth, I figure. That’s our version of a lifetime commitment with someone you love.”

“I doubt you often enter into a marriage by _accident,_ ” Lotor said dryly, and he tried not to let himself hope because Lance had called it a lifetime commitment with someone you _love,_ and maybe…But no. That was foolish.

“You’d be surprised,” Lance said, “there’s this one city that had a whole industry of—never mind. Not really the point. The point is, yeah, you are my responsibility, because you’re my pairbond, and…” Lance fell silent, and Lotor felt his heart stop for a moment. For all he was trying to avoid hoping, it was crawling into his chest anyway, treacherous in how far it lifted him up when there could only possibly be a fall after. “I know we didn’t exactly end up here the usual way, but when humans get married, we make a set of vows. To honor and cherish and protect, for better or for worse, until death do us part.” He let out a breath, and stare down at where his hand was still wrapped around Lotor’s. “And I love you, and you said—I mean, you told that hologram that you loved _me,_ and if that wasn’t just some heat of the moment thing…”

Lotor felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if any movement would shatter this fragile instant, a moment where he could believe that Lance meant what he said. That he really did _love_ Lotor, that there was something more than just desire and convenience.

“It was not,” he said finally, and his eyes too were drawn to their joined hands. “I meant what I said. I love you, Lance.” He swallowed. “I have not exactly been subtle about that.”

“Whatever hints you thought you were dropping, I, uh,” Lance looked a little guilty, “didn’t pick up on them. I thought you were just interested in the sex, because like, I’m not bad looking and I know it, but why would somebody like you be in _love_ with somebody like me?”

It was like a revelation, like a slap in the face with what Lotor had refused to see. All that time assuming Lance knew and didn’t _care,_ because he had thought for certain he was being entirely obvious—he swallowed, guiltily. A dozen things he had taken as little casual rejections, and the entire time…Lance hadn’t _known._ Hadn’t seen what Lotor might see in him.

Well. That couldn’t stand.

“A Paladin of Voltron, clever and handsome and kind, a hero?” Lotor let out a tiny laugh. “In comparison to an exiled prince marked by his father’s legacy of death and conquest? No one in ten thousand years has looked at me and seen anything more than my blood.” He looked away. “I thought…..that was what you saw, too. You certainly spoke like it, when I first came to Voltron.”

“I know you’re more than that, now,” Lance said, and he leaned in and pressed a brief, soft kiss to Lotor’s lips. “You’re a huge nerd, and I mean that in a really good way. You’re smart and funny and also the most gorgeous dude I have ever laid eyes on, but that part’s really just a bonus.” He exhaled, and Lotor could feel an onrush of guilt through their bond. He could take a guess as to the reason. It wasn’t exactly difficult. “And I treated you like shit when we first met, and I owe you a lot more than an apology for that.”

“It no longer—” he began, because it _didn’t,_ what mattered was that Lance _did_ love him, now, but Lance shook his head.

“Yeah, it does still matter,” he said. “I owe you an explanation, at least. It’s not gonna be good, but  it’s…you deserve _something_.”

“Your feelings have changed,” Lotor said, “that is all I—” Lance reached up and gently put a finger over his lips, and Lotor fell silent.

“When we first got out here, I fell for Allura _hard,_ and I think you can get why,” Lance began. Lotor hummed a quiet agreement. Yes, he’d been more than aware of Lance’s feelings for the Princess. One would have to be incredibly unaware to not notice, and also to not understand why someone would fall in love with Princess Allura. “And that’s kinda…” Lance exhaled. “I was a dick to you because I was jealous, and I owe you an apology. I thought…I mean, I figured there was no way she _wouldn’t_ pick you over me. And I kinda…I guess I realized eventually that it didn’t matter anyway. I wasn’t her type.” A tiny laugh passed his lips. “I’d always sorta known that, but I guess I let myself really _get it,_ finally, and….then there was you. The more I paid attention to you for _you,_ the more I liked what I saw.” Lotor opened his mouth, and Lance gave him a sharp look. “If you’re about to say something dumb and self deprecating about being my second choice, don’t.”

“I wasn’t,” Lotor said, which may not have been the whole entire truth.

“Good,” Lance said, “because you’re _not._ Me being in love with Allura, or Jenny Shabon back on Earth, or anyone else before I was in love with you does not change that I’m in love with _you_ now.” A brief laugh passed his lips. “Besides, you’re the first person to look at _me_ twice, so. Hey, there’s that.”

Lotor took a sharp breath. _No._ Lance did not mean that the way some dark part of Lotor wanted to take it, and he ground the thought under his metaphorical heel. All he had to do was let himself feel Lance’s sincerity through their bond to know that. Lotor wasn’t a second choice, or a lover picked out of desperation because there were no other options. Lance wanted _him._

“Their blindness is my gain,” Lotor said. “But...you are not the only one who has an apology to make.” His eyes flicked to the mark on Lance’s neck, and that seemed to be enough for Lance to realize where he was going, because his face fell.

“Babe, no,” Lance said, and he looked like he wanted to say more, but Lotor shook his head.

“I am not being self-deprecating, _majramano._ I will not scream and sob and act as if I have committed some unforgivable crime in bonding you.” He exhaled, and his eyes moved to Lance’s, holding his gaze. “But I was wrong to do it regardless. I was...not thinking, and I certainly did not intend it maliciously, but I still harmed you, and that you coincidentally return my feelings does not change that I did gravely wrong by you.”

“Yes, it _does,_ ” Lance said, and he looked almost devastated. “If you’d asked, I would have said yes. I loved you then, and I love you now, and that _matters_.”

“And that I did _not_ ask _also_ matters, Lance.” Lotor said, softly but firmly. Lance exhaled.

“Yeah, it does.” Lance acknowledged. “And if it was somebody else...I’d have been pissed, I won’t lie. But I love you, and I want this, and _that_ matters a lot more to me.” Lance’s hands moved to cup the sides of Lotor’s face, and he leaned forward, pressing their lips together.

The shift in position was enough to remind him that Lance was still hilted in him, and also to remind him that he very much did still want that. Even if all wisdom said that he couldn’t keep Lance—because all of his other objections, particularly his fears about what might happen should the Empire get their hands on Lance, still stood—he could have this.

He rolled his hips, and Lance moaned against his lips and pushed him back onto the bed. As he began to thrust again, slow and sensual, he moved his lips from Lotor’s to press kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his neck, trailing them lower and lower.

“I love you,” Lance murmured between kisses, “love you so much, you’re so damn beautiful, I’m so lucky to have you,” he moved back up to press another kiss to Lotor’s lips, and Lotor let out a tiny little whine, feeling tears prick at his eyes again, but this time not because it hurt to hear. The overwhelming gentleness Lance was displaying, the rush of feeling through the bond, all of it was almost too much to bear. Lance’s hands came up to cup his cheeks, and he frowned slightly. “Do you need me to stop?” He asked, and Lotor shook his head, barely able to form the words to answer.

“Please, don’t stop,” he said, and Lance groaned and leaned in to kiss him, tongues tangling together. It was slow and gentle and soft, like nothing Lotor had ever had before, and when he peaked, it was with a tiny, desperate sob. It felt good to curl up with Lance after, to let himself forget that in the morning he would have to find Kolivan and discuss his future in the Blade of Marmora.

For one night, he could be Lance’s pairbond. Nothing else had to matter.

 

* * *

 

Lance woke up the next morning to an empty bed, and he wasn’t one for angry outbursts, but there was definitely a good second where he considered punching the nearest wall out of frustration. It wasn’t _fair._ He’d finally gotten to say it, they’d had their big romantic moment, Lotor had cried and everything, surely that meant things were supposed to get better? They were supposed to be able to _be together_ now, and that didn’t include sneaking out of bed.

There was a note on the dresser, and Lance frowned, picking it up. Lotor’s handwriting was elegant and precise, exactly what Lance might have expected of him.

_Lance,_

_I thought about waking you to say goodbye, but it seemed better to let you sleep. I’ll be leaving with Kolivan at 0900; he has an assignment for me with a small Blade cell. It will likely be some time before I see you again. This is goodbye, at least for now._

_I love you. Do not doubt that, majramano._

_-Lotor_

Lance glanced at the clock by his bed, and felt his heart jump. That was in a few minutes—but enough time for him to throw in his clothes and run down to the hangar, so he could get a proper goodbye. Before he left, he folded the note and stuck it in his hoodie pocket. There was no way he would chance losing it; if Lotor really was leaving with the Blade, he wanted to have that with him.

He slid into the hangar just as Lotor and Kolivan were stepping onto their shuttle. Lotor looked _good_ in his new uniform; it was a perfect fit, naturally, and the spy look suited him.

There wasn’t a lot that wouldn’t suit him, in Lance’s eyes. Lance was maybe a little biased.

He started jogging over, and he saw Lotor pause, likely because he could feel the rush of emotions Lance was feeling at that moment.

"Lotor, wait," Lance called out, before he could actually get onboard. It hurt, a little, to see that Lotor had apparently been fully prepared to leave with Kolivan without so much as a goodbye, especially after what happened after the Trial. He'd thought they were making progress, or as much progress as could be defined from, you know, sex that involved Lotor expressing some really deep actual emotional vulnerability. That _really_ didn't line up with "sneaking away first thing in the morning when he thought Lance was still asleep."

"Ah," Lotor said, and he turned, and glanced over. "Kolivan, may we have a moment?"

"Of course." Kolivan gave a brief nod. "Take as long as you need." He stepped onto the transport ship, leaving Lance and Lotor alone.

"I just…I wanted to make sure I got the chance to say goodbye," Lance said. Lotor looked startled for a moment, and then something like a smile appeared on his face.

“I should have expected,” he said, and then he took a step forward and reached out, gently cupping Lance’s cheek and drawing him in for a kiss, and okay, that was _way_ more in line with the progress Lance had thought they were making. “I thought skipping a more drawn-out goodbye would be easier for both of us. I suppose not.” A soft laugh passed his lips. “I will miss you, _majramano.”_

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Lance said, and then he paused and frowned a little. “Hey, that word, _majramano_ —what’s it mean? I asked Kolivan, and he wouldn’t tell me, so Pidge and I looked it up, and the translator said it meant something like ‘my sword-arm,’ but uh, I’m kinda lost. Is that like, a dialect thing, like how some words in Cuban Spanish do _not_ mean the same thing other places?”

“Not quite,” Lotor said, and he looked a little sad. “‘My sword-arm’ is the correct translation. What it _means…”_ A brief exhale, and his thumb brushed briefly over Lance’s cheek. “What it means is a bit more like ‘ _someone I trust with my life.’_ Someone I cannot imagine being without. Someone whose loss would greatly diminish me. Someone as important to me, and as trusted, as a good blade.”

Lance felt like his heart was doing flips in his chest. That was…that was _intense._

“Lotor,” he started, and Lotor’s thumb moved to rest over his lips, an effective silencing gesture.

“Don’t,” he said, quietly. A distinctly sad smile crossed his face. “In a better world, Lance, I would be proud to stand at your side.”

“Why can’t we have that _now?”_ Lance protested. “We should….we should be able to have that chance. Shiro and Keith are doing fine!” It wasn’t fair; this was yet another thing this stupid war was taking from him, and Lance wanted to scream and rail and fight until Lotor realized he didn’t have to go.

He didn’t realize he’d started crying until he felt Lotor’s thumbs on his cheeks, wiping the tears away.

“I would like nothing more than to be able to stay here, with you,” Lotor said, and his voice was soft, and sad, and Lance didn’t have to wonder if he was sincere because he could _feel_ it, “but my practical objections still stand. I will not see you put in more danger because of me.”

“I can handle it,” Lance protested, and he would have pushed further, but there was a tidal wave of _pain_ from Lotor, like something twisting around his heart and squeezing, and it stopped Lance in his tracks.

“No,” Lotor said. “I will not see someone else I care for hurt because of me.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, there was a fiery determination in them that had Lance’s heart skipping a beat. “But when we are victorious—and we _will_ be victorious—when Zarkon and the witch are dead, and the universe is finally free, I will return to you, if you’ll still have me, and there will be nothing that will keep me away.”

Lance didn’t have the words to respond to that, not immediately. He threw his arms around Lotor’s shoulders and kissed him hard, holding it until he absolutely had to break to breathe.

 _“Te amo, mi corazón,”_ he said, once he’d caught his breath. “Come back to me, dammit.”

“Always,” Lotor said, and Lance gave a brief, firm nod before he let him go.

“Go save the universe, babe,” he said, and Lotor let out a brief laugh before leaning down to steal one last, brief kiss. When it was over, he turned towards the shuttle, and Lance let him go.


	6. Chapter 6

Lotor's work with the blade was, primarily, lonely. It wasn't as if he was alone; he'd been placed with Regris's squad, doing targeted infiltrations of Galra cruisers, and he liked the Blades he was working with. They were surprisingly willing to accept him, and he suspected he had Regris to thank, but whatever the reason, he was just glad that they treated him as nothing more than a fellow Blade. He wasn't the Prince, Zarkon's heir, someone to ingratiate with or to fear; he was just  _ Lotor _ .

It had been a long, long time since he could be "just Lotor," if he ever had been.

It was good, better than he'd hoped, but that didn't take away the steadily increasing ache in his chest, or his constant background awareness of Lance, lightyears away though he was. The rest of his squad came to not worry about waiting for reports on Voltron's battles, because all they had to do was pay attention to Lotor; if he was sluggish and aching, there had been a hard fight.

The worst, though, was being able to feel how  _ miserable  _ Lance was, and knowing that it was, directly and completely,  _ his fault.  _ Lotor had chosen this, had insisted upon it, and he still believed it was the right thing to do, but it was so much harder to stay away when he knew how  _ badly  _ Lance wanted him back.

Sometimes, he let himself imagine a scenario where he could return, but it was only fleeting imaginings. He had made his choice, and soon enough the bond would fray and break, and....

He wanted to pretend that he was convinced things would be better, but he wasn't, were he being totally honest. He was almost certain that he would feel even more lost and alone without the constant background awareness of Lance in his head.

He'd made his choice, though, and he had, he was certain, made it for the right reasons. Lance might not hate him as he'd feared, but Haggar absolutely did, and so did Zarkon, and they would take any means at their disposal to ensure he was brought to heel. That harming Lance would also harm Voltron would only make it that much more appealing.

So. Focus on the mission, on doing his part to dismantle the Empire. He could bring what knowledge he had left to bear, and send them after quintessence shipping routes and bases that he knew the Druids had occupied. Targeting them brought a specific sort of enjoyment, after all the terrible things he had seen and suffered at their hands, and at Haggar's, over the centuries. For centuries, he had been one of their playthings, as they tried to force Altean alchemical abilities to manifest at Haggar's behest. When nothing had come of it, he'd been cast aside, like any other failed test subject. He was fairly certain he'd only avoided the fate of becoming some sort of horrifying robeast by virtue of Zarkon still hoping to make something of him, and even that had been a tenuous protection.

It was also eye-opening to learn exactly how many people the Blade had in the Empire, because no matter where they were breaking into, there was always an ally ready to let them in. On the particular cruiser he was hitting with Regris and two others as his backup, it was a Lieutenant Lotor had met before, and she was obviously surprised to see him.

"Your highness," she said, when he unmasked so he could focus on cracking the database in front of him without obstruction.

"Not anymore," Lotor said offhand, and she frowned.

"There are still people loyal to you—" she began, but Lotor shook his head to cut her off.

"I imagine there are," he said, "but I have no intent to attempt to unseat my father directly.”

"As you say, your highness," she said, and she bowed, and Lotor felt his cheeks heat up a little. It had been long enough since someone had used royal protocols with him like that for it to feel unfamiliar.

"I'd vote for you," Regris offered, breaking the tension, and Lotor rolled his eyes, turning back to the screen in front of him.

"Thank you," he said dryly, and he returned his focus to downloading the data they needed on quintessence shipments.

He was almost done when he heard an alarm begin to blare, and he swore under his breath, yanking the datastick out and tossing it to Regris.

"Time to leave, I think," he said, pulling his head up and activating the mask. "Lieutenant, I apologize for this, but your cover must be maintained." She gave him a brief nod, and he brought up the hilt of his blade, knocking her unconscious with it. They booked it out the door and towards the exit, and Lotor could feel a twinge of concern in the back of his head, almost certainly Lance feeling his distress and reaching out, and he took a brief moment to take comfort in feeling him through the bond, but only a moment. There wasn't time for much more than that.

Their exit was farther from the server room than Lotor would have liked, all things considered, but the upside was that he was with a highly professional squad of trained infiltrators, and they managed to avoid the sentries, for the most part, until they reached the hangar where they had come in.

The scene was strangely familiar. Throk, at the head of a group of sentries, and Lotor between him and people Lotor cared about. 

He grit his teeth. This wasn’t the terrible time-loop nightmare of his Trials—there was no guarantee that they were going to be overrun and slaughtered, like the Paladins had been over and over and over and—

_ No. _ Losing himself in panic over something that hadn’t even been  _ real  _ was absurd.

“When Haggar mentioned I might have rats on my ship, I thought she must be crazy. Not in  _ my  _ fleet, surely.” Throk said, spinning his sword idly. “But here you are. A whole swarm of them.”

Lotor but back the urge to respond. Throk would undoubtedly recognize his voice; rising to his taunts would make him a target. Better that he remain anonymous. This was already a worst case scenario; being spotted at  _ all  _ was the last thing they wanted. To complicate it further would be incredibly foolish.

Instead, he glanced back and gave Regris and the others a brief nod, and they split off to crash into Throk and his line of sentries. The Blade was at a numbers disadvantage, certainly, but sentries were predictable and easily destroyed, even in groups. Lotor found them falling easily before him, until Throk interposed himself and they crossed blade to blade.

“Hello, your highness,” Throk said, voice full of dripping sarcasm. Lotor forced himself not to respond or react; no reason to confirm Throk’s suspicions if he was in any way unsure. “Don’t pretend,” Throk continued. “I paid attention to how you fight when we dueled, and I’ve been over every recorded record of your swordplay quite a few times since the witch finally took me off her rack. I know your fighting style  _ intimately,  _ Lotor. I know it’s you under that mask.”

Lovely. Perfect. An obsession. Lotor  _ had  _ considered that possibility when he learned Haggar was interrogating Throk for information about the attack on his command, because getting thrown to the Druids rarely engendered  _ positive  _ feelings, but when he hadn’t heard anything, he had...assumed Haggar had disposed of Throk for him. A stupid assumption, clearly.

Throk clearly wasn’t kidding about having studied Lotor’s fighting style, either. Lotor knew that he wasn’t fighting exactly as he had before, but Throk still kept up far better, and with far less rote, predictable technique. 

A lucky shot under Lotor’s guard sliced through his suit and into his hip, and Lotor winced. That was going to become a problem, very quickly. 

He glanced over his shoulder at the others, and yes, they were making progress towards an exit. Most of the sentries were down, leaving him and Throk as the only two actively engaged in combat, but he could hear reinforcements approaching, which meant that absolutely would change, and hoping that they got lucky and the reinforcements didn’t catch them was...a lot to put on hope, especially since he was going to be slowed down by the sluggishly bleeding injury on his leg.

“Come on!” Regris shouted, and Lotor growled. This was an objectively terrible plan. If—no,  _ when  _ he saw Lance again, he was sure Lance would have a few choice words about this choice to risk his personal safety. It was also the option that got the most people, and the data, out.

It was a gamble. He had to hope that Throk’s obsession was borne of a desire for painful vengeance, not simple murder; otherwise, he died here, and that was it. If he was right, though...there would be time. To escape, or to be rescued.

“ _ Go! _ ” Lotor shouted, and then he twisted around Throk’s sword and slammed a kick into his side with his good leg. “I’ll hold him!”

He glanced over, to see Regris give a sharp nod, and then he turned and ran, and the others went too. Good. 

“Very noble,” Throk said, “and very stupid.”

Lotor felt a sentry’s gun press against his back, and then a shock ran through his entire body and he collapsed.

 

* * *

Lance could feel something cold and empty in his chest, and it almost made him sick. He knew things must have gone badly for Lotor, wherever he was—there had been brief flashes of pain, and a sharp agony in his hip, and then what felt like an electric shock, before this awful cold ache and its accompanying white noise. 

He’d done a lot of lying around and whining unhappily when he could tell Lotor was getting injured on a mission, but this was beyond just  _ injured.  _ This was  _ serious,  _ and he wasn’t going to wait around like some tragic soldier’s wife leaning out the window with her handkerchief and praying for news. 

He knocked on the door to Keith and Shiro’s room, and when no one responded, he knocked harder. 

“Keith, I know you’re in there, I don’t care if you guys are indecent, I really need your help,” he said, and he hoped how desperate he was showed in his voice. It must have, because the door swung open, and there indeed was Keith, looking thoroughly irritated. His hair was mussed, and his shirt looked like it had been hastily pulled back down, and Shiro hadn’t even bothered moving from his spot on the bed.

“ _ What, _ ” Keith said sharply, and Lance let out a breath. Under other circumstances, he might have teased them, because they were his friends and giving them crap was his sacred mission, but...not now. 

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t really important,” he said, “but...I need you to call Regris.” Something in his tone or his expression must have convinced Keith that he was very serious, because some of the edge left his glare and he glanced back at Shiro.

“Later?” He said, and Shiro nodded, pushing himself up off the bed. He didn’t look happy about it, and Lance filed away a mental note to ask Hunk about some apology cookies, or something. 

“What’s wrong, Lance,” Shiro said, very seriously.

“I’m not sure, but  _ something’s  _ wrong with Lotor. Really wrong. I know Blade work is dangerous? But it’s not usually ‘get stabbed in the leg and then electrocuted’ dangerous,” he explained. Keith frowned.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, and he moved over to the pile his Blade armor was in on the floor, fishing out a communications device. He flicked it on, and Lance watched a miniature holoscreen pop up. Regris answered almost immediately, and there was no ignoring that he looked exhausted.

“Keith? Oh thank the ancestors, I was just going to call you. Is Lance there?” He said. Lance felt like ice had been dumped down his back. The panic in Regris’s tone told him that he wasn’t asking to assure him that Lotor was just fine and on his way to the space hospital. No, something was very wrong.

“I’m right here,” Lance said, and Keith moved his hand so they were both in frame. 

“Good,” Regris said. “Lance...is Lotor still alive?”

“How do you not know that, he’s supposed to be with you,” Lance said, but he had a feeling he knew.

“Lotor covered our escape,” Regris said, “and...he didn’t catch up. We had to leave him behind. If he’s not dead, the Empire has him.”

Lance felt his heart plummet to somewhere around his shoes. Lotor had been  _ captured _ .

He was pretty sure he could guess what exactly was going to happen. Haggar and Zarkon would use Lotor as a weapon against Voltron, just like Lotor had feared Lance would be used against  _ him.  _

He couldn’t even find it in him to breathe. Lotor was out there, somewhere, in the hands of  _ monsters. _

“Regris,” Keith said, and Lance barely noticed him turning the screen away, “stick with that cruiser and report its location. We’ll be coming to you.”

He was pulled towards something closer to reality when he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, and looked up to see Shiro.

“Lance,” he said, “we’re going to get him back. I promise.” 

Lance nodded. He had to believe that. They  _ would  _ bring Lotor home, alive. There was no other option.

 

* * *

Lotor jolted back to awareness in a surge of pain. Everything hurt, especially his hip, though it was no longer bleeding and a glance down told him that it had been lazily treated. Good, they wanted to keep him alive, that was something.

He was surprised to find that he wasn’t in the windowless room that interrogations were usually confined to, even though he was definitely secured to one of the devices the druids used for that purpose. This was the  _ bridge _ of a cruiser, but the only organic beings present were him, Throk, and, debatably, the Druid. Otherwise, it was fully manned by sentries—unusual, because while they were good for much of the work on a ship, piloting a large cruiser often required the deft hand of an organic.

It wasn’t hard to guess why, though. A crew with thoughts and feelings and emotions might react badly to seeing someone tortured, and Lotor had no illusions about what was going to happen to him. It was, at least, better than a swift death.

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” Throk said. “Before we get started properly, I had a question for you. Really, I wanted you to confirm a theory.” His eyes moved to Lotor’s neck, and Lotor growed, defensively, without even really thinking about it. “I couldn’t help but notice a pairbond mark on your neck, and once I was over my initial shock that anyone would want to bond with a filthy, disgraced halfbreed like you, I realized that you’ve been with  _ Voltron  _ most recently. So, is it one of the Paladins? Black, perhaps? I’ve heard he’s fond of cast-off halfbreed strays.”

“Fond of one in particular, and it isn’t me,” Lotor said dryly, “and I hope you aren’t foolish enough to think that I would just  _ tell you  _ who it is.”

He braced himself for a round of shock, and was surprised when it didn’t come. Throk had never exactly struck him as the type to handle defiance with grace, and yet, here he was, doing something alarmingly close to that. There had to be a bigger endgame.

“Ah, well,” Throk said, “we’ll know soon enough. Make the jump,” he ordered, and Lotor braced himself for the hyperspace leap. 

When they came out the other side, there was a horribly familiar sight.

The Castle of Lions.

“We tracked Voltron’s last location,” Throk said, “and now you see why I wanted you here. I need to test my theory, and I want you to be able to  _ watch,  _ while I use you to break Voltron apart.”

Lotor couldn’t help it. It was a terrible impulse, and he knew that it was going to result in more pain, but he  _ laughed.  _ Right in Throk’s face.

“Oh, you are an  _ idiot,  _ and Voltron is going to  _ destroy you.” _ He shook his head. 

“Shut up and watch,” Throk snarled. Lotor watched fighters pour out, and as the Lions flew out to meet them, he forced himself not to obviously seek out Red. There was no need to confirm Throk’s theory for him. “Now,” he said, and  _ that  _ was when Lotor felt electricity course through him. He forced himself not to scream, eyes squeezing shut and teeth gritting together. He  _ refused  _ to give Throk the satisfaction of knowing how much pain he was inflicting.

“ _ Zumre tsa hanbounim _ ,” Lotor snarled. Throk snorted. 

“You’re very full of bravado,” he mocked. “I wonder if your Paladin feels the same?”

 

* * *

For a moment, all Lance felt was white hot pain. He screamed, and he knew he had to have yanked Red off course, and he could feel her in his head, clamoring to make sure he was alright.

“Lance!” He heard Allura calling his name on the comms as the pain faded and his vision came back into focus, and he shook his head. “Lance, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Lance said breathlessly, “yeah, I’m okay, I—it’s not me.” He was pretty sure it wasn’t, at least. There hadn’t been an impact or anything, which meant that it was  _ Lotor,  _ and whoever had him was  _ torturing  _ him. “Lotor’s in trouble. A lot of trouble.”

To say the least. Lance swung Red around, firing her tail laser at a cluster of fighters, feeling his hands shake with barely contained fury. These  _ stupid Galra  _ were pinning then down and  _ keeping him from going to Lotor,  _ when his pairbond  _ needed him,  _ and he couldn’t tear whoever was hurting Lotor apart, so these poor bastards would have to do.

“I just got news from Regris,” Keith’s voice cut in, and Lance sat up. “That cruiser, the one that just dropped on us? That’s the one Lotor’s on.”

“It’s a tactic,” Shiro said, and there was a note of shock in his voice.

“Oh, that’s  _ messed up,”  _ Hunk said, and Lance made a noise of agreement. It was exactly what Lotor had been afraid of, except  _ Lotor  _ was the one actually in the Empire’s hands.

“So we gotta get to that cruiser,” Pidge said, and yeah, that sounded good. Lance liked the idea of a concrete plan.

Another burst of electricity coursed through him—through  _ Lotor— _ and this time, he didn’t scream.

This time, he got angrier.

“I’m going in,” he said, and he angled Red towards the ship. He could feel her roaring in the back of his mind, urging him forward, and he was more than ready to take her advice.

 

* * *

Lotor winced, watching Red falter as more agonizing shocks passed through his body. 

“So,” Throk said, voice taunting, “it’s the Red Paladin, is it? Let’s see…that’s the one that did the pretty little ribbon dance in that piece of propaganda, isn’t it? He almost looks Altean, I’ll give you that much, and we all know how much you prefer the disgraceful side of your heritage.”

Lotor bit back a snarl. He owed Throk nothing, no explanations for his choice, and especially no further information he might be able to relay to the Empire about Lance. 

“Does he even know that about you? I’m sure he can’t have failed to notice how utterly un-Galra you are,” Throk continued, and Lotor would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t know it would have ended badly. “But does he really  _ know?  _ Has he seen one of those disgusting heats of yours?”

“You hardly thought it was disgusting when  _ you  _ were the one benefitting from it,” Lotor sneered, “but yes, he has, and unlike you,  _ he  _ actually managed to make it an enjoyable experience—” his words were swallowed by a scream, the first time he’d let himself cry out through this entire experience. Stupid, to have risen to Throk’s taunts; if he’d kept his mouth shut, that wouldn’t have happened. 

“You’ve never learned how to stop talking, have you, Lotor?” Throk asked. Lotor resisted the urge to bite back, because he’d earned himself enough agony.    


He did, however, let himself smile when he felt the ship shake, even if that earned him another agonizing shock. He suspected he knew what that was.

This nightmare was almost over.

One of the sentries ran over to Throk, and they had a brief, hushed conversation, and when Throk turned back to Lotor, he looked utterly homicidal.

“The Paladins have boarded the ship,” Throk said, voice filled with rage. “You were right, they  _ did _ come running for you.” 

Throk hardly needed to tell him. Through the haze of lingering pain, Lotor could feel the weight in his chest caused by his long separation from Lance lightening. 

“Do you think they’d be rescuing you at all if not for your precious pairbond? Or would they be making the far better choice, to let you die?” Throk sneered. “Was that your plan all along? Use one of the Paladins as an insurance policy, for when the Empire eventually came for you?”

“They would absolutely not be,” Lotor acknowledged. At least, he hoped not; it was foolish enough to attempt this rescue as it was. “But no, I didn’t  _ plan  _ this. I already knew you were barely in possession of a  _ brain,  _ Throk; I suppose it should not surprise me to discover you lack a heart and a soul as well.”

He almost expected the shock that came next, and distantly he supposed that when this was over he ought to apologize to Lance, because he was absolutely getting both of them hurt more with his insistence on taking shots at Throk. 

“Stop.  _ Talking. _ ” Throk snarled, and then he gestured and the Druid shocked Lotor again. The last one went on far longer than any of the previous ones, and when it was done, Lotor felt hazy and almost disconnected from his body. He was barely able to follow the conversation around him, though he could guess it was a discussion of battle plans.

If he could  _ listen _ ,  _ focus,  _ maybe—no. Even if his did manage to learn anything useful he wouldn’t be able to tell Lance or his team. 

Instead of struggling, he fell back into the comfort of Lance’s incandescent rage. Whatever else there was, Lance was still coming.

 

* * *

Lance barely gave a thought to the sentries that stood in his way. He knew they were there, he knew they were falling, but all he was focused on was the almost magnetic pull to Lotor. His pairbond, in agony, because some  _ piece of shit Galra bastard _ had scooped him up and decided to use him as a weapon against Voltron. 

When they got to the door to the bridge, he stood back, and let Keith slap down an explosive charge he’d gotten from the Blade. It blew the doors apart, and if you asked Lance, Voltron looked pretty fucking heroic striding through the smoking ruins of the door. 

Lotor was strapped to what seemed to be an upright table, and he looked exhausted. Lance wasn’t exactly surprised; he’d been  _ tortured,  _ Lance had felt every shock, and if he wasn’t running on adrenaline and rage he would probably be utterly exhausted himself. 

He didn’t recognize the Galra commander, and he didn’t care. It really wasn’t all that relevant if you asked him.

“Let Lotor go,” Shiro said, voice like ice, “and we’ll take you in peacefully.” 

“Well, Throk?” Lotor asked, voice absolutely dripping with contempt, “are you going to prove me right and demonstrate your absolute idiocy by attempting to fight the Paladins of Voltron? Or are you going to make the only  _ intelligent _ choice?” 

Lance actually felt his heart do a little flip. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed Lotor’s snark, in the haze of missing everything  _ else _ about him, but God, hearing it again reminded him how much he loved it. And if Lotor was coherent enough to snark at his captor, he might just be okay.

“Oh,” Throk said, “I think fighting might not be as stupid as you think it is.” 

Throk grinned, like there was some kind of victory in this for him,  _ anywhere,  _ and then he pulled out his sword, turned, and stabbed it through Lotor’s chest. Lance felt the blow like it was happening to him, and it actually made him freeze for a brief moment.

Lotor made a tiny noise that sounded more like surprise than pain, and then, as Throk pulled the blade back out, he slumped, and Lance felt the white noise of unconsciousness return. Felt it distantly, because most of what he was feeling was pure, incandescent  _ rage.  _

“No,” he snarled, and he started striding forward, and he felt the bayard in his hands shift, from sniper rifle to something else. 

A sword, not all that unlike Lotor’s old one, from before he joined the Blade. Lance wasn’t exactly a trained swordsman, but it felt like an extension of his arm, and he launched himself past the other Paladins and at Throk, snarling his rage.

Throk actually stepped back, eyes going wide, and Lance took a moment to glance back and see the team falling into battle formations behind him. Shiro went to get Lotor off the table, and as much as Lance wanted to be the one carrying him out, he had other priorities. Ones he was sure Lotor would approve of.

Namely,  _ making Throk pay. _

“ _ Fuck  _ you,” he snarled, falling on Throk with a hard overhand slash that Throk barely met with his own blade, “you’re never going to lay a hand on him again, I’m gonna make sure of it.” He kept coming, hacking and slashing, never giving ground for a moment. Throk was bigger, and more experienced, but he was also clearly  _ afraid,  _ and that had him off balance.

Finally, Lance sent Throk’s sword flying, and then he moved under his guard to ram the heavy broadsword bayard through Throk’s chest.

Throk dropped, and Lance didn’t have to check to know he was dead. The blank, unseeing stare told him that well enough.

Lance’s shoulders heaved with heavy breaths, and when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he almost whirled to attack, but it was too big and warm and familiar to be a Galra.

“Lance, we gotta go,” Hunk said, and there was something a little tremulous in his voice. Lance supposed he couldn’t blame him; he  _ had  _ just watched Lance cold-bloodedly put a dude in the ground as blatant revenge for hurting Lotor. 

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, and he turned around, and had to take a moment to not be sick. It wasn't that he regretted what he’d done, but...there was a huge difference between picking off sentries from a distance and  _ stabbing someone.  _ It was probably a good thing that he didn’t get anything out of it, except a sort of grim satisfaction that he’d done something that really, really needed to be done.  He glanced over, to see Shiro carefully carrying Lotor’s unconscious form, and he wished, briefly that he had the physicality to do that himself, before dismissing it. There would be plenty of time to hold a  _ conscious  _ Lotor later, once they got him to the castleship and the healing pods and he had some time to recover. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

* * *

Lance didn’t bother hovering outside Lotor’s cryopod. He could feel the static-white-noise that meant  _ unconscious, but alive  _ in the back of his head, and sitting and staring at Lotor’s cryopod wasn’t going to make him recover any faster from what had been done to him. 

Sitting still wasn’t what Lance  _ did,  _ anyway. He hated being idle, and it was much easier to go down to the training room and start practicing with his new bayard form. He let himself get lost in running simulations, learning how the blade felt in his hands, and how it felt to actually fight close range. It was a totally different skillset than using his rifle, and a lot of what he was doing was memory from seeing Lotor or Keith fight. It wasn’t entirely natural, but the more he practiced, the more he came to appreciate it.

Distantly, he felt something shift in the back of his mind, but he was so absorbed in his practice that it didn’t actually register. Hyperfocus was useful for getting a lot of practice in, but it also meant that it took a pretty direct change to his environment for him to register that something outside the thing he was focused on was happening. 

That came in the form of a pair of hands on his upper arms, nudging them into a slightly different position.

“You’ll want to adjust, slightly, if you want to get the most power out of your swing with a sword like that.”

Lance yelped, and spun, and watched Lotor nimbly skip away from his sword swing. 

“After all the effort you went through to save me,” Lotor teased, and Lance was silent for a moment before he dropped his bayard and flung himself forward to throw his arms around Lotor. He felt Lotor tense, briefly, and then Lotor’s arms wrapped around him, and he buried his face against Lotor’s chest and sobbed. He hadn’t let himself realize how  _ afraid  _ he’d been the entire time, from the first moment he’d felt that awful static to the moment they’d gotten Lotor into the cryopod, but now, with Lotor  _ here  _ and  _ alive  _ and  _ solid,  _ with the crisis past, he could let himself feel everything he’d been bottling up without even realizing it. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,  _ querido, _ ” he said, and Lotor exhaled, running his fingers through Lance’s hair. 

“I am. I’m alive, and I’m alright, and it’s because of you and the rest of Voltron. You saved me.” Lotor made a noise like a soft purr, and it made Lance relax just a little, especially since he could feel the cascade of Lotor’s feelings, the gentle warmth of his affection. “I knew you would. There was never a moment when I lost faith,  _ majramano.  _ I always knew you would come for me.”

“Of course I was always gonna come find you,” Lance said, and he leaned back from Lotor’s chest so he could tug him down into a kiss. It was long, and slow, and Lance melted into it.

“I love you,” Lotor murmured against his lips when they broke for air, and Lance felt his heart soar. 

“I love you too,” he said, without hesitation, and then he dove in for another kiss. Best to enjoy what he could have for the moment, because as far as he knew, Lotor was still resigned to them having to stay apart, and as much as the idea of letting him leave again killed Lance, he could almost understand it now. Feeling Lotor in agony with no way of doing anything about it, and  _ knowing  _ that the reason Lotor was suffering was because they were bonded….it had been one of the worst feelings he had ever experienced. 

When Lotor pulled back, he rested his forehead against Lance’s, and Lance almost melted all over again seeing the soft smile on his face. 

“I…” Lotor began, and then he paused. Lance braced himself. This was going to be it, this was the point where Lotor told him that this hadn’t changed anything. “I don’t often admit that I was wrong about something, but I was...very wrong about us.”

“What?” Lance said, blinking and taking a step back. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, not really, and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad. He could feel hesitance and something like anxiety through the bond, and that didn’t make it any easier.

“I know I have not made this easy for you, Lance,” Lotor said, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked away, and Lance felt the anxiety grow, and he itched to soothe it, but not when he wasn’t sure what, exactly, was going on. “But I...do not think I would have held onto my sanity, while I was at Throk’s mercy, if it were not for our bond. That was true for my Trials as well.” Lotor closed his eyes, briefly. “I have been so afraid of my weakness causing you harm that I have neglected all the ways in which being bonded to you makes me stronger. I...need to stop being such a fool. And I don’t want to run away from this anymore. If you’ll still have me, of course.”

Lance spent a long moment wondering if he’d heard correctly, and the longer he spent silent, the more anxious he could feel Lotor getting, but Lance still couldn’t find the words to speak.

“As I said,” Lotor said finally, and his voice was soft, almost defeated, “if you’ll have me. If you’ve decided that is no longer what you want—-”

“No, no, that’s not—” Lance started, “Lotor, are you sure that’s what  _ you _ want?” Lotor turned to look at him, and his eyes held Lance’s.

“I have lived for ten thousand years, and I could live for ten thousand more, and I will never be half as certain of anything else as I am that I want to be with you,” he said, and Lance felt his heart skip. 

“I want that too,” he said, and then he stepped forward and pulled Lotor into a kiss, and Lotor closed his eyes and sighed happily against his lips.

This was it. Exactly what he’d been hoping for since this whole mess began. Lotor was his, and he was Lotor’s, and if Lance had anything to say about it, nothing was going to pull them apart.

 

* * *

Lotor strode off the Blade shuttle, reaching up to pull down his hood. It had been several months since his induction, and he found the work thoroughly rewarding—but truly, there was nothing like returning to the castleship and being met by his beloved. Lance was right there when he stepped off the ramp, and Lotor scooped him into his arms, lifting him up so they were face to face and leaning in to steal a kiss. Lance groaned softly, slinging his arms around Lotor’s shoulders and holding him close.

There were disadvantages, Lotor supposed, to being pairbonded and a Blade; he couldn’t do long-term deep-cover missions, because he needed to return to Lance, but Kolivan seemed happy enough to accommodate him just as he accommodated Keith’s bond with Shiro. Having Lance waiting for him—and knowing that Lance would know if he did something stupid—made him much more careful, and he liked to think that made him a better agent.

“I swear, you get hotter every time you come back,” Lance said, and Lotor laughed.

“Perhaps,” he purred. “All I know is that every time I return, I learn again that memory cannot compare to the real you.”

“Flatterer,” Lance said, and he leaned in to press a kiss to Lotor’s nose. “Come on, there’s something I wanna show you,” he said.

“Oh?” Lotor quirked his eyebrows. “As it happens, I have something I wish to show you as well.” The gift sat heavy in the pouch on his hip; he and Lance hadn’t exactly directly  _ discussed _ this sort of thing, but Lotor had made a few inferences, and he suspected it would go over well. 

“Then what are we hanging around here for? Put me down and we’ll go talk somewhere more private,” Lance waggled his eyebrows, the way he always did when he thought he was being particularly sultry.

“Hm,” Lotor said, “privacy  _ does  _ sound lovely, but I don’t think I’ll be putting you down.” He shifted his grip on Lance so he was easier to carry, and swept them out of the hangar. It wasn’t much of a burden, really; Lance was light, and Lotor loved the way he felt in his arms.

“God I love you,” Lance said, and Lotor laughed, gently bumping his forehead against Lance’s. 

“And I love you.”

There was always a sort of lightness that came with just being able to say it; to reaffirm how he felt out loud, to express how much he adored his pairbond. That lightness carried with him all the way to the room he and Lance shared; a little bigger than the Paladins’ regular quarters, and with a bed large enough for two. It was only once they were inside, with the door locked behind them, that Lotor set Lance down, and Lance grinned.

“Go sit on the bed,” he said, and Lotor could feel that he was buzzing with nervous, excited energy. Lotor complied, resting his hands on the mattress and leaning back a little, but keeping his eyes on Lance. “So,” Lance said, and he took a step back and tugged off his shoes, which revealed the toes of what looked like they might be purple stockings, “this, uh. Kind of took some planning. Allura helped,” he flushed, and Lotor’s eyebrows went up. “Totally worth it though.”

It wasn’t exactly a surprise for Lotor to learn Lance was capable of performing a striptease. He’d seen the Voltron Show, and he’d gotten Lance to do them for him a few times in the bedroom. Every time, though, it was a pleasure to watch Lance slowly peel off his clothes, and this time, what was underneath was an equally pleasant surprise.

Lance’s shirt came off and joined his hoodie on the floor, and revealed what Lotor was fairly certain was a delicate purple babydoll, made of translucent fabric that, even still tucked into Lance’s pants, fluttered slightly as he moved. It was open in the front under the bust, and when Lance twirled around as he wriggled out of his pants, it swirled around him, and as it settled it drew Lotor’s eyes to Lance’s hips. He was wearing a garter belt, sitting over delicate-looking lacy panties, and the belt held up gartered thigh-high stockings. All of it was in a soft shade of lilac, and there was no doubt about why he had chosen that particular shade. 

Lotor felt his heart skip, with a mix of lust and adoration.

“Come here,” Lotor breathed, beckoning Lance over. Lance climbed into his lap eagerly, and Lotor drank in the sight of him, so beautifully barely clothed, and all of this meant as a  _ gift  _ for Lotor himself.

He absolutely had to touch. Lance wriggled slightly in Lotor’s lap as Lotor peeled off his gloves, and Lotor watched Lance’s eyes trail over him.

“This is...really hot, you still in your armor and me just in….this.” He gestured at the delicate lingerie, and Lotor hummed agreement. He reached up and gripped Lance’s chin with one hand to draw him into a kiss, while the other went to rest on his hip, tracing over the delicately patterned lacy fabric there. 

“I agree,” he said, when their lips parted. “Although, as much as I enjoy it, I think I’ll enjoy fucking you while you wear it a bit more, and that  _ will  _ require me to take my armor off.”

“In a little bit,” Lance pouted, and he wriggled in a way that  _ had  _ to be purposely lewd, because it ground his crotch against Lotor’s with just enough pressure to send a thrill up Lotor’s spine, and Lotor could feel a little trill of self-satisfaction through their bond. “Besides, you said you had something  _ you  _ wanted to show  _ me,  _ so show me.” Lance casually draped his arms around Lotor’s shoulders, leaning in close. 

“I did, didn’t I,” Lotor said, in a way that was clearly not really a question. He moved his hand from Lance’s hip to his own, opening up the pouch and withdrawing what was inside. It was a delicate collar, crafted from a synthetic hidelike material, in a deep blue intended to match Lance’s eyes. It was accented with two thin purple stripes at the top and bottom edge, and attached to it was a simple silver tag that bore Lotor’s personal symbol embossed in black. He held it up so Lance could see, and Lance let out a tiny gasp. 

“You...got this for me?” Lance asked, voice soft with wonder as he held out as hand to take it. Lotor handed it over, letting Lance feel it in his hand. He could feel Lance’s utter delight, and it warmed him. That, and the frisson of lust he could feel along with it, were exactly the reactions he’d hoped for.

“I had it made for you, yes,” Lotor said, and Lance made a tiny noise of amazement. “I know we haven’t discussed this sort of thing directly, but...I had a feeling you might like it.”

“Oh yeah,” Lance agreed, and then he looked up from the collar, back to Lotor, and Lotor could see that his eyes were slightly wide, and darkened with lust. “Put it on me?” He asked, offering it back to Lotor. Lotor took it gladly, and brought his hand up, carefully clasping it around Lance’s neck.

“Comfortable?” Lotor asked. Lance nodded, awe still on his face, and Lotor watched his hand come up to play with the tag, thumb running over the symbol. He fiddled with it for a few moments before he looked back up and threw his arms around Lotor’s shoulders, kissing him long and hard. Lotor groaned and leaned into it, hands going to rest on Lance’s hips. He let his fingers trace the outline of the panties on Lance’s skin, and Lance whined against his lips, and Lotor moved his lips from Lance’s to trail kisses down his neck, stopping just above the collar. Lance let out tiny little gasps and whines with each kiss, and Lotor drank them in. He loved how reactive his beloved was; how it was possible to fire him up with a touch in the right place or even just the right  _ words.  _

His hands moved to trace over Lance’s ass, and his fingers found hard plastic under the cloth, and he pressed against it with a sly grin.

“Fuck, Lotor,” Lance gasped, and he rolled his hips forward, grinding into Lotor and drawing a groan from him. 

“Is that what I think it is?” Lotor teased, and Lance flushed.

“I knew I was gonna want you in me as soon as possible, okay,” Lance said, as if he needed to defend himself. “So….yeah, I. Put in the plug so I’d be stretched out for you.”

“And what if I had intended to ride you, mm?” Lotor asked, teasingly.

“...Round two?” Lance offered, and he actually looked hopeful at the prospect.

“I suppose I  _ will _ be here for quite a while,” Lotor said, idly, “and we can make space for both. For now,” he grinned, “you need to take those lovely panties off before one of us ruins them. Just those, though, darling, I rather like the rest of it on you.” He felt Lance swallow.

“Yes, your highness,” Lance said, and that sent a thrill through Lotor. Usually he despised his royal title, and it wasn’t even rightfully  _ his  _ anymore, but when Lance said it, especially when Lance said it in that low, husky whisper, when he was complying with a demand Lotor made in the bedroom, he  _ loved  _ it.

“Good boy,” Lotor said, and he heard the tiny little whimper Lance let out as he slid out of Lotor’s lap. He stood up as well, and although he began to peel himself out of his armor, he kept his eyes on Lance as Lance carefully undid the garters and slid the panties off. He took half a step forward, and Lotor flicked his eyes to Lance’s thighs, where the garter strings still hung loose, and Lance flushed and reached down to refasten them. 

Lotor set aside the last of his armor and sat back on the bed, reaching down to give his cock a few perfunctory pumps even though he absolutely did not need it. He watched Lance stop and stare, openly, and he grinned playfully and slid his fingers between his thighs, dipping them into his wet, hot core. Lance made a tiny, strangled noise, and Lotor watched his cock jump slightly in eager anticipation.

“Lubricant, darling?” Lotor asked, lightly. Lance blinked twice like he had just been snapped back to reality, and nodded. 

“Yes, your highness,” he said, and he gave Lotor a brief wink as he moved over to the bedside table to pull out their well-used bottle of lube. Lotor settled back against the headboard, and as Lance climbed back into his lap and he plucked the bottle from Lance’s fingers, he gave a little hum. 

“Next time one of us makes it out to the Unilu swap moon, we’ll need more of this,” he said, idly. “Perhaps we should go together. Make a day of it.”

“I’d like that a lot,” Lance said, and Lotor gave a brief nod, as he popped open the bottle and spread lubricant onto his cock and his fingers. 

“As would I,” he said, and he set aside the bottle, reaching his slicked hand behind Lance to work out the plug. Lance slid his arms around Lotor’s shoulders and buried his face in his neck, letting out a low, needy moan, one that got louder as Lotor slid two fingers into him. “Mm, you  _ did  _ make sure you were ready for me. Good boy,” Lotor purred, and Lance whined against his neck, rolling his hips back against Lotor’s fingers as Lotor casually fucked them in and out of him.

“Lotor,  _ please, _ ” Lance whined, and Lotor hummed.

“Please what, darling?” He asked, tone playful, as he pressed his fingers against that spot inside Lance that always made him cry out. 

“Please give me your cock, your highness,” Lance begged, and Lotor pretended to consider for a moment before he leaned in to give Lance a long, slow kiss, sliding his fingers out and moving his hands to rest on Lance’s hips.

“I can never deny you anything when you ask me nicely, darling,” Lotor said, and he tugged Lance’s hips forward, helping him sink down onto Lotor’s cock. Lance moaned, and Lotor moaned with him, leaning in to kiss Lance again. It always felt so incredible, to feel Lance’s pleasure alongside his own, to hear Lance’s moans as he bounced up and down on Lotor’s cock. Lotor could feel the soft brushes of the delicate fabric Lance was wearing against his skin as his hands wandered over Lance’s body, appreciating the solid, wonderful feel of him. Lance might not be as large or as muscular as most Galra, but Lotor enjoyed the feel of Lance’s whipcord muscle under his hands, and as far as Lotor was concerned, Lance was  _ perfect. _

“Fuck, Lotor, you feel so good,” Lance groaned, and Lotor kissed him, hard, tongue tangling with Lance’s as he fucked into him. He dragged his claws down Lance’s back, hard enough to mark but not enough to draw blood, and he felt Lance arch forward against him, and felt the rush of pleasure it invoked. He didn’t so much hear Lance’s moan, either, as feel it on his tongue, and that sent a heady thrill through him.

He dragged his hands around, leaving more scratch marks over Lance’s hips, and let one hand rest there, claws digging in lightly. He retracted the claws on the other, bringing it around to stroke Lance’s cock, and with each stroke he could feel Lance climbing higher and higher towards orgasm. 

He finally pulled back from the kiss for air, and there was a thin trail of spit from his tongue to Lance’s that Lotor casually leaned forward to kick off. Lance’s cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were slightly unfocused in the way they only got when he was being fucked well; it was an expression Lotor absolutely treasured. He used his grip on Lance’s hip to shift him slightly, so that on his next thrust he hit Lance’s prostate, and he felt the sparks of pleasure that came from it like it was his own.

“Holy shit, Lotor, yes, more,” Lance gasped, and Lotor growled, low and dark, and he felt the thrill that sent through Lance. He picked up his pace, matching his strokes to the rhythm of his thrusts, and he could feel Lance coming undone in his arms. He could also feel his knot swelling, ready to lock him and Lance together.

“Do you want my knot, darling?” He asked, pausing in his thrusts. Lance made a tiny whining noise, and Lotor clicked his tongue. “That’s not an answer,” he said, lightly.

“Yes,” Lance gasped, more than a little breathlessly. “Yes, I do, please give it to me,” he begged, and Lotor purred and pressed a brief kiss to his forehead.

“Alright,” he said, and he began to thrust into Lance again. He glanced down, watching the bulge his cock created in Lance’s taut stomach, and he felt a pleased, possessive thrill run through him. Lance was  _ his,  _ and Lotor absolutely  _ loved  _ staking his claim on him.

Lance bounced his hips in time with Lotor’s thrusts. Lance’s hands came up to tangle in Lotor’s hair, drawing moans from Lotor as he tugged at it. Finally, Lotor thrust up hard, shoving his knot into Lance and letting it swell up and lock them together. He cried out as he peaked, giving Lance’s cock a few more strokes until his pairbond tumbled after him into ecstasy with an unrestrained scream of pleasure. 

When he came down from the high of their echoed orgasms, Lotor pressed a hand to Lance’s stomach, distended slightly from the sheer volume of cum Lotor had poured into him. Lance let out a tiny little whine, and Lotor pressed a brief kiss to his rather bruised-looking lips. Lance was a  _ sight,  _ still wearing his pretty lingerie and covered in scratches from Lotor’s claws, and with an expression of such deep, adoring fondness that it sent Lotor’s heart flipping. No one had ever looked at him that way before, and he doubted anyone else ever would. 

Lance sighed, burying his face in Lotor’s neck. Lotor raked his fingers through Lance’s hair, enjoying the feel of it between his fingers.

“ _ Ta’ebya vel lyúbjikom, majramano,”  _ Lotor murmured, and he pressed a kiss to the top of Lance’s head. 

“What’s that mean?” Lance asked, without lifting his head up. 

“There are layers,” Lotor said idly, “but at its simplest, it means  _ I love you. _ ” 

“ _ Te amo,”  _ Lance said, and he lifted his head up, giving Lotor a soft, fond smile. “Means the same thing,” he said, though Lotor hardly needed the translation. He could feel it, humming through their bond, a wave of affection and adoration and  _ love,  _ and in that moment, Lotor knew that after ten thousand years of searching, he was finally exactly where he belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit of Galra that isn't translated in text, the insult that Lotor spits at Throk, is an insult meaning _"die with dishonor."_ In context, were Lotor to explain it, he'd say that it's considered one of the nastiest things you can say to someone, because it's so against Galra values.
> 
> So! This was definitely a labor of an _insane_ amount of love. I want to thank my artist, [princelotortrash,](http://princelotortrash.tumblr.com) one more time, because her art is so fucking good. <3 If you want to hit me up on tumblr, I'm at [noirsongbird!](http://noirsongbird.tumblr.com) Come talk to me, it makes me happy.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr at [noirsongbird!](http://noirsongbird.tumblr.com)


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